


Bird in a Storm

by Ray_Writes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Tommy Merlyn, Episode: s01e13 Betrayal, F/M, Laurel Lance is the Black Canary, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 103,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel's career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends.
Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 396
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so! Here we find ourselves at another season 1 AU. You might be wondering how this can be considering I only just finished up a different season 1 AU very recently. The truth is, this is a story I began months if not years ago and have finally managed to complete. Now that it is, I’m very excited to share it with you all, and I hope you’ll indulge me in sticking to the early days of the show for a little longer. I promise I do have other projects planned that take place later on in the series (as well as some additional season 1 AUs – sorry, I just love the potential the show had back then).
> 
> That being said, while you will no doubt recognize different events from canon, I am playing a little fast and loose with the timeline, in that I am not sticking to the commonly-held assumption that there is only one week between each episode, so I hope that eases any concerns about various character arcs and skill-building and whatnot before they arise. Also, I will borrow some elements and characters from later seasons, but that does not mean that all revelations from later seasons are canon in this AU (i.e. William and Samantha, for example, do not exist. Do not ask about them. They just don’t.).
> 
> All that housekeeping aside, I do hope you enjoy this take on the show and my hypothetical journey for Laurel’s character in particular. I set out to write this in an effort to try and bring Arrow’s Laurel more in line with comics!Black Canary, the way they promised to do with their version of Oliver. I will be excited to see if you all believe I’ve succeeded. Many thanks as always to the Lauriver discord and their support and feedback as I made my way through this project. And thanks to you all for reading!

On the island, split second decisions had been the difference between life and death, and there had never been time to worry about the moral implications. That had always come later. But Oliver already hated himself for what he was about to do.

There was only one way off this roof that would ensure his safety and his identity. One way to survive.

Oliver grabbed hold of Laurel with one arm, pulling her back against his chest. She was rigid, and he could feel the hammering of her heart. _Fear_. He had broken the precarious trust she’d placed in the Arrow once again.

Lance’s eyes burned with rage. “You so much as leave a bruise on her, and I swear I will drag you down to hell myself.”

“ _Laurel, I’m sorry._ ”

With a slight shove, he turned with one arm already pointing his bow to shoot a grapple hook arrow — but in the same instant the shot rang out.

Louder to his ears was the punch of air that left Laurel as she staggered back into him with the force of it. Oliver felt his heart stop as his arm came round her once more, this time to hold her up.

There had been the crack of a bone. He couldn’t tell if there was blood. What kind of bullet had Lance let his men use?

“ _Laurel,_ ” he breathed, watching her eyelids flutter in response.

An anguished wail left Lance, and he teetered forward and back on his feet before whirling around and snarling at his own task force. “Guns down! Who fired?”

Another split second decision, this time with someone else’s life in the balance.

Oliver pushed the consequences to the back of his mind and spun Laurel around, encouraging her to get her good arm around his neck. She clung on as if by instinct. Then he jumped with her in his hold.

The shouting of Lance and the other officers was lost in the wind rushing past his ears. Once he regained his feet, Oliver scooped Laurel’s legs up with his other arm and broke into a run. The pained whimper that left her at the sudden movement tore at his heart. This was all his fault. He should’ve been more careful. What sort of monster was he that he’d been willing to gamble her life?

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he said again in the Hood’s voice, hardly a comfort. Oliver frowned and refocused on moving forward.

He could get her to a hospital faster than all of them, and he was loathe to trust any of them with her at the moment.

But they would never let him leave once he relinquished Laurel.

Only a split second to decide.

He changed course, activating his comm and praying that Diggle was listening.

“ _Get the medical supplies ready._ ”

 _“Oliver? What the hell happened to you?_ ”

“ _It’s not for me._ ” Laurel’s breathing was growing shallower by the minute. It was possible she was entering shock. He couldn’t stop to treat her for that, not when every cop in the city was bound to be looking for them soon.

But he was unwilling to let it go without trying to reach her and keep her grounded. “ _You have to remain calm._ ”

Laurel’s breathing only seemed to pick up, and her face turned from him. Right, he terrified people like this. The Hood was the last person anyone would want at their figurative bedside.

He didn’t think Oliver Queen was much better. But he had to try.

With a soft _beep_ he deactivated the voice modulator. “Stay with me, Laurel. Please.”

There was a hitch in her breath and then her head fell back, looking up at him.

“...Ollie?”

Without the modulator, he couldn’t hope to hide the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

He wasn’t really sure if she was seeing him. Her eyes remained wide and shocked as he rounded the final corner into the alley behind the Verdant. Oliver took the last few steps at an even faster run.

“Just a bit farther. It’s gonna be alright.”

Digg was waiting at the exam table, but he looked up as soon as Oliver cleared the stairs.

“Oh, hell.”

“Not now, John. Please.” He laid Laurel on the table and pushed the hood back from his face. “Help me.”

Diggle held his gaze for a long moment. “Pass me the scissors. Need to get at her shoulder.”

\---

John did exactly as he had always done in Afghanistan: work quietly and quickly. Oliver was much too tense for conversation as it was, and truthfully he wasn’t much better.

Laurel Lance’s gunshot wound wasn’t a penetration. From what he could feel, she had a clavicle fracture. Rubber bullet, most likely. It wouldn’t need surgery, though she was going to need some work to regain the full use of her left arm. Better that than a few inches to the left and a shot to the face that would have had much more potential to be lethal.

She’d lost consciousness, for which he was a little grateful. Oliver didn’t put much stock in painkillers, so they didn’t have much on hand. They’d want to save it for when she woke up.

But soon enough he was laying down the leftover supplies from the makeshift splint he’d crafted and stripping the gloves off his hands, the silence in the base growing heavier by the minute. He drew in a breath, then asked at last, “Oliver, what were you thinking? What _happened_?”

There was no immediate answer. Oliver seemed to be taking some time to gather his thoughts. He’d found a jacket to drape over Laurel in her sleep, the closest thing they had to a blanket down here, and John watched him take care not to touch her shoulder as he tucked it around her. Oliver brushed some of her hair back behind her ear, his expression utterly unreadable. Finally he took a step back and looked up.

“It was an ambush. Lance must have figured out how we were meeting, and he brought his whole task force.”

John wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. Sometimes he didn’t know how Oliver got himself into or out of these situations. “And how does that end up with an innocent woman shot? Lance’s _daughter_ shot?”

Something crossed over Oliver’s face, darkening his expression. “The only way to get off the roof was to place her between me and them. But when I pushed her towards Lance someone must have had their finger resting on the trigger, and the sudden movement…” He trailed off, but John could gather the rest.

“So what made you bring her here?”

Oliver looked at him as though he’d just spouted pure insanity. “It was one of Lance’s men who shot her. I couldn’t leave her there. And I wouldn’t have been able to get out of the hospital without being arrested.”

It might not have been impossible, but he could see the difficulty. John looked down at Laurel Lance. They had very few options and very little time to act, but some things needed to be decided now.

“Are we letting her wake up here? Cause if we do, she knows everything,” he pointed out, no doubt needlessly. Oliver crossed his arms tight, as if trying to hold in the rising panic at what his actions had caused. “If you help me get her in the car, I can drive her to a hospital.”

But Oliver was already shaking his head. “There’s no way to explain how you or I would have found her. Lance saw the Hood take her, so that would put me right back in the station.”

“Right, and now he’s got kidnapping to add to his list of charges.”

“I’d like to add reckless endangerment to a list of his crimes,” Oliver growled. “What was he thinking, John? The only daughter he has left could have been killed tonight and all for his _obsession_.”

“Some people are willing to do whatever it takes when they’re on a mission,” he said, his voice carefully light.

Judging by the look Oliver sent him, the double meaning wasn’t missed.

He plowed ahead anyway. “But seeing as she is his daughter, what’s to stop her from telling him the truth whenever she wakes up? She’s gonna have the power to end this whole thing, Oliver. To end both of us.”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s not something Laurel would do.”

“Yeah, well I’d feel more confident about that if you hadn’t just got her shot.”

He watched Oliver frown and pace away, grabbing up his change of clothes to finally shed the Hood’s suit.

When he returned, he was scrolling through his phone with an even deeper frown.

“Missed calls?”

“Yeah, about twenty. Tommy, mom, Thea — hold on.”

The phone had started buzzing in Oliver’s hand, and he placed it up to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a pause where John thought he could hear the chatter of Oliver’s sister on the other end.

“Speedy, slow down. What?” He glanced down to Laurel and briefly touched her still hand. “That’s… horrible,” Oliver said, seemingly struggling for the right word for a moment. “Of course, I’ll head right down. I’ll be careful. Love you.”

“So what’s going on?” John asked once he’d hung up.

“There’s a search being organized for Laurel. And a manhunt for the Hood. Lance is on the warpath.” He gave Laurel’s hand another squeeze and looked up. “I have to go join the search.”

“Something tells me you’re not planning to be too helpful.”

Oliver gave him a dry look. “Considering I’m trying not to prove I’m the Hood, that would be the idea. Text me the minute she wakes up, please. Or if anything about her condition changes.”

“Right.”

Oliver turned to go, but stopped and looked back. “John, I — thank you.”

John nodded. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said. Whether or not he agreed with what had happened tonight didn’t matter; they were in this together regardless.

He sighed as the door shut behind Oliver, and he settled into the chair in front of the computer. From this position he could keep an eye on their patient without being uncomfortably close. No doubt she’d be disoriented enough upon waking already.

John considered their options going forward. Everything hinged on whether or not Laurel Lance considered the Hood an enemy or still her friend. Or perhaps it mattered how she considered Oliver more.

He had wondered from time to time if it might be better that some of the people in Oliver’s life knew the truth. It would lessen the constant demands on his time, anyway. And he knew the longer he isolated himself, the longer it’d take for him to come back from those years on the island. John himself had only just started feeling like a part of the world again after Afghanistan, and he had Carly in his life. A.J., too, even if his nephew wasn’t quite old enough to fully understand why Andy had never come home from the war.

But none of what John had done was technically illegal...

Laurel was a gamble but she was perhaps still the best option for who could find out first. She’d proved willing to work with the Hood multiple times, unlike the rest of Oliver’s circle who seemed convinced the vigilante was a dangerous lunatic. She was close to Oliver without being an actual family member John knew he couldn’t stand to lose. And with her in the know, perhaps she’d be less of a distraction that led to mistakes like tonight’s events.

Finding himself cautiously optimistic, John leaned back in his chair to wait. It was all they could do now.

\---

Quentin was about ready to rip his hair out. How could the night he’d planned to catch that damn vigilante have gone any worse?

He’d had him. He’d had him in his sights. Then the bastard had grabbed Laurel, and he’d felt his heart stop. Only things hadn’t ended there.

One of his officers, one of his own, had shot his daughter. Starling’s supposed finest. He still couldn’t believe it.

It had all felt like some horrible nightmare where things had kept spiraling out of his control. He should’ve never taken his eyes off her. That had been a rookie mistake. As it was, that Hood had had Laurel off the roof and down onto the streets below before Quentin could do so much as turn and run to the edge. They’d disappeared in the shadows between two buildings as he’d screamed her name.

Pike had been about as furious as Lance had ever heard him when he’d called in the botched operation and requested more forces to begin canvassing the area. He’d deal with that later; right now, it was his own rage and fear he had to keep in check.

Pike’s new superior Captain Stein’s first and foremost demand had been to allow the reporters who had swarmed around the scene to believe that it was an arrow Laurel had been hit with and not a bullet. Damage control was always the first thing on the brass’s minds, none of them having learned from Nudocerdo’s mistakes, apparently. It didn’t sit well with Quentin; lying about the facts of a case never did. And he wanted justice for his daughter.

He’d see that officer thrown off the force whether the public knew why or not. As for the vigilante, he was starting to wonder if he should’ve put a bullet in him months ago. If he was willing to abduct Laurel, someone that for whatever reason believed he was some kind of force for good in this city, who knew what else he was capable of?

They’d found nothing in the immediate perimeter that had been set up. Now he stood over a map, outlining where the combined groups of police patrols and volunteers should look next. A couple of Laurel’s colleagues had come out, but nothing compared to the outpouring of aid from the Glades. Whole families had come up to him with stories from their time as Laurel’s clients. If he wasn’t so worried, he might have been proud.

But none were as much of a wreck —outwardly anyway — as Merlyn. He’d come screeching up to the edge of their perimeter and leapt out of his car before the engine was fully off.

“Detective Lance! I just saw the news. Have you found anything?”

He’d tossed his third cup of coffee and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But why would he shoot her and then take her with him?” Merlyn had finally managed to get one of his gangly legs over the tape they had tied between two telephone poles and jogged the rest of the way to him. “I mean, I know he’s crazy, but that beats about anything yet.”

Quentin had looked him up and down, then stepped closer. “Look, uh, I’m gonna level with you. It was a misfire from an officer.”

Merlyn had reeled back. “The cops shot her?”

“Would you keep it down?” He’d growled. “It was a rubber bullet. Laurel wasn’t the target.”

“What was she even doing there?”

“She’s been talking to him. The Hood.”

Merlyn had frowned. “I told her he was dangerous.” Something had darkened in his expression. “When they catch him—”

“You’ll have to get in line. Now are you here to look or not?”

Merlyn had stuck by his elbow ever since, helping coordinate between the various groups. The organizational aspects seemed to keep him calmer, as calm as he could be given the circumstances.

“Is there a neighborhood he’s been spotted in more often than others? He’s gotta have some kind of home base, right?” Merlyn wondered aloud. “What if he ditched her out in the Glades somewhere? She’s totally defenseless.”

“We’ll comb the whole city if we have to—”

Anything else he’d been planning to say was drowned out by the motorcycle that came roaring down the street before stopping just beyond the police tape. Quentin scowled, though not as much as when he got a look at who the driver was. Oh Christ, and he’d been wondering if it could get worse.

“Queen, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Just saw the news and wanted to help join the search.”

“Yeah, you’re the last kind of help I need.”

Queen frowned, and his tone had a coldness Quentin hadn’t known he possessed as he replied, “Laurel is my friend, and the most important thing to me right now is that she is safe. I would have hoped that’s something we could agree on.”

“I know I can,” Merlyn said before Quentin could answer to that. He embraced his friend for a brief moment. “God, Ollie, you think she’s okay?”

“I have to believe that. But the longer we go without any news it seems less likely.

In this city, money talks.” He turned back towards Quentin. “I would like to pledge ten million dollars to anyone who comes forward with credible information about Laurel or the Hood.”

Quentin was glad he hadn’t been drinking his coffee. As it was, he was still left spluttering. “Ten million! For _information_?”

Queen’s serious expression never wavered. “Laurel is worth that and more.”

Merlyn gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, but no one’s asking you to bankrupt yourself.”

“I lived without money for five years, Tommy. But I can’t go back to living without the people I care about.”

He and Merlyn exchanged a look, thrown by the blunt statement. Quentin cleared his throat and said, “Alright, well I can’t stop you. Are you actually gonna join this search or just throw money around?”

“I’d like to,” Queen said, his tone clipped.

“Go talk to Detective Hall, then. She could use another volunteer for her team.” As the younger man turned and left he thought he could feel the air grow less heavy. Quentin shook it off and turned back to his maps.

The hours continued to crawl by, and though calls increased as the news of Queen’s reward spread, none of it turned up anything useful. Slogging through each and every tip however legitimate was more likely to just slow them down.

Hilton approached him with another coffee and pursed lips. He knew his partner had something he wanted to say about everything that had gone down on that roof, but Quentin also knew he didn’t want to hear it.

“No word yet,” he muttered.

“Quentin, I think we gotta be honest with ourselves. He’s not gonna be wandering out on the streets for us to find.”

“I’m not giving up looking, Hilt—”

“I’m not saying you should,” his partner interrupted. “But we need to fix our strategy.”

“Alright. Well, what did you have in mind?”

“There’s been no ransom, no attempt at contact. Laurel has the only phone with a direct line to him,” Hilt said, looking to him for a nod to confirm. “We need to start a dialogue.”

“How do you wanna do that?”

“He’ll probably have an eye on the news to see what our next move is. I think it’d be best for you to address him directly.”

Quentin stood up straight. “You think I’m gonna negotiate with that nut job?”

Hilt’s gaze never wavered. “Your daughter was injured. She needs medical care, and the longer we wait the less likely that’s gonna happen.”

Quentin stared hard at the ground. He knew Hilt was right. No matter how badly he wanted to catch this vigilante, he needed Laurel back. Things had already gone badly enough once.

“The only thing we know for sure makes this guy tick is that he’s got ideas about justice. There’s no justice in taking Laurel. You gotta appeal to that.”

He tried not to scoff. “You think that’s really gonna work?”

“Well, we know he’s been willing to talk to you before. That means a part of him’s got to be willing to listen.”

Hilton got everything arranged. Before Quentin felt remotely ready Green from the nightly news was there with a cameraman, and some woman was pinning a mic to his lapel.

“We are on the scene live for the search both for Dinah Laurel Lance, a lawyer for the nonprofit CNRI, and the infamous Hood, who has — for the first time — taken a hostage,” Green stated to the camera a few paces away. “Detective Quentin Lance, who is leading the search as well as the SCPD’s anti-vigilante task force, has asked our network to broadcast this address to the vigilante himself.”

The woman who’d miced him cued him with the point of a finger.

Quentin squinted into the camera lens. “Alright, I’m gonna make this brief. You are and have always been a criminal since you showed your hood around here. I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise, especially after tonight. You’ve abducted an innocent woman. More than that, you’ve abducted my daughter. There’s not a lot of ways this can end for you.”

He drew in and let out a breath.

“But that’s not what the people of this city have come together for. The people who are out there right now searching and hoping for the safe return of one of our own. So I am asking you to turn Laurel Lance over to the nearest precinct. There will be no ambush. No armed officers. You bring her back and you have one night of immunity. I guarantee it. This is my daughter, and I just want her home.”

This felt all too familiar all of a sudden. Not that he’d ever done this, but he had watched years ago as a different father had pleaded on live television for Barton Mathis not to carry out his sick experiment on the latest woman he’d taken.

It hadn’t done any good. Quentin had found her one night later with Dollmaker’s usual adjustments. He’d broken the news to her family as gently as he knew how, but he remembered to this day the man’s sobs over her body in the morgue.

He could become one of those fathers. He could lose the only daughter he had left.

It felt very hard to breath, and whatever he’d meant to say next completely escaped him. “She’s my daughter,” he heard himself repeat. “I don’t know why you took her, what you want with her. If this is about me, then come after me. But not her.”

He could see it again, the way she’d fallen limply back into that lunatic’s arms.

“She needs a doctor. Please, just let her go. I don’t know if you’ve got a family or not. But she’s all I have. Please. I- I can’t—”

Quentin turned sharply away from the camera and the lights. He ripped the microphone off and shoved it at the assistant as he walked past. “I can’t,” he repeated hoarsely.

Behind him, he could hear Green speak again, but didn’t process the words. He was teetering somewhere on an edge, torn between his need to bury himself in the work and his desire for a stiff drink.

As he exited the ring of camera equipment he could feel a pair of eyes on him. Quentin looked up and somehow wasn’t surprised to see who it was waiting and watching.

“What is it, Queen?”

“I have to go home to arrange the reward with my mother and our bank.”

“Right. Fine.”

Queen hesitated, like he wanted to say something more. Quentin mustered up a glare to make it clear he better not. The billionaire finally gave a small shake of the head and headed back to his bike.

Good riddance. He’d be damned if the man who had gotten Sara killed somehow saved Laurel.

\---

Laurel came to cold and stiff, with a dull, throbbing ache in her left shoulder that seemed to only grow worse the longer she lay there. She gave a small groan and could only seem to get one arm to cooperate as she pushed herself up from a metal table. A jacket she swore she’d seen before slipped off her onto her lap, and she stared at it dumbly.

“Try not to touch your left shoulder,” a familiar voice said, and Laurel gave a start as she looked up and met Mr. Diggle’s calm gaze. “The splint should be holding things in place, and the painkillers should be kicking in.”

“Painkillers…”

She noticed the sleeve of her shirt and jacket had been cut away to expose her shoulder, which had an angry red welt from what she could see of it under the splint. Laurel shrugged her way into the jacket for a bit of coverage, more for her own comfort than any mistrust of Mr. Diggle. 

It smelled mostly of sweat, but also something familiar that had a strange calming effect considering she was in an unknown place with a man she was only tertiarily familiar with and no idea how any of it had happened.

It was slowly coming back to her; the rooftop, her father’s men pointing their guns at her and the Hood both, the shot and the shock of pain that had followed. Then things got hazier. She remembered being carried somewhere, the Hood’s voice transforming into Oliver’s midway through, and his eyes staring back at her from under the hood.

Slowly her eyes were taking in their surroundings. The tables lined with green-tipped arrows, a computer, a training mat and one of those workout ladders.

The air whooshed out of her in one soft, “Oh.”

Mr. Diggle drew in a breath. “Yeah. You get used to it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Oliver was the Hood. Oliver Queen, former playboy and the man who had broken her heart five years ago, was the vigilante who had been giving people in the city hope. Who had been giving _her_ hope. She… she’d believed in him.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

She appreciated the question, because it gave her mind something to focus on besides the shock. “I was shot. One of the task force members my father…” Laurel trailed off and shook her head, not wanting to believe it. “How could he?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Diggle answered softly. “That splint should be enough to put the bone back into place, but it’s gonna take a while to fully heal.”

It occurred to her that he was apologizing. Laurel shook her head.

“That’s okay. Um, do you have some water?”

He nodded and went to get her a cup. Laurel managed to swing her legs over the side of the table to sit up properly by the time he was back, though her left side was throbbing even more in protest. She accepted the drink with a quiet thanks and sipped at it, letting her eyes take in the whole space for a second time.

“Where’s Oliver?”

“Went to go join the search for you,” Mr. Diggle answered. “I let him know you’re awake, though, so he’ll find a reason to come back.”

“The search?”

“Police saw you get taken away by the Hood. They’re saying you’re his hostage.”

Something that didn’t quite sound like a laugh bubbled up and escaped her.

“Here,” Mr. Diggle said, passing her his phone. “You don’t have to take my word for it.”

He’d pulled up a news site running what they were calling a breaking news story. _Hood Takes Hostage_ , the banner at the bottom read. Seeing her own photo displayed along with a hotline number for anyone to call who had information on her whereabouts was bizarre to say the least.

“Oh God.” Laurel set the phone aside and placed her hand on her forehead. “This is a mess.”

He didn’t disagree.

A door somewhere above them opened and Laurel looked around as Oliver entered whatever place they were in. He stopped at the bottom of the steps as he met her eyes.

There was a look in them, an intensity she until now had only been able to guess at. Now she could only wonder how she hadn’t seen it.

Except she had, hadn’t she?

“So… when you said you couldn’t be some vigilante, that was a lie.”

Oliver looked down, then slowly crossed the room to her table. “How are you feeling?”

“About as good as getting shot feels.”

A pained look flickered across his face. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Laurel replied.

“The police were after me, not you,” he insisted.

She shook her head. “Ollie, the first rule of firearms is you never point at a target unless you’re prepared to take the shot. Even if just with rubber. They were ready and willing to shoot me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Diggle nod in agreement.

“Anyway, I knew the risks.”

“I didn’t want to take those risks with you,” said Oliver.

Laurel felt the corner of her mouth lift in a wry smile. “Well, it’s a little late for that. So… what happens now?”

Oliver exchanged a look with Mr. Diggle, then drew in a breath. “You know my secret.”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause.

“I think he’s trying to ask how you’re feeling about it,” Mr. Diggle finally said. She couldn’t quite suppress a smirk while Ollie fidgeted.

“I guess a part of me knew. I would have preferred you just admitted it when I asked you, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Oliver echoed.

“Ollie, I agreed with what the Hood has been doing. I wouldn’t have worked with you if I didn’t. Knowing it’s you doesn’t change that. If anything — well, it’s nice to know I can contact you as easily as you could me.”

He was staring at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “You want to work with me.”

“Yes,” she said, dragging the word out slightly. “I’ve been working with you, if you haven’t noticed. And you’re my friend. If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.”

“But the Hood’s — I mean I — Laurel, I’ve killed people.” For whatever reason, he seemed frustrated with her. “I’m not a good person.”

“No, you’re a good person trying to do good things who has not always used good methods.” Laurel leaned a bit to the side, as much as her shoulder would allow, to try and catch his eyes which were determinedly stuck to the floor. “If you weren’t a good person, you wouldn’t have returned the money Adam Hunt stole to his victims. Or intervened in Peter Declan’s case. Or helped get justice for Joanna’s brother and the other firefighters. You are more than just a killer, Ollie.”

He finally lifted his gaze, and Laurel felt a pain somewhere in her chest at the doubt that she saw there. _This_ was what he had meant when he’d told her of the damage he didn’t want his loved ones to see. It was not the physical scars from the island he carried, but the things he’d had to learn and to do there to make it back to them. Things he could have chosen to leave behind and live out a comfortable life, but instead was using to make their city a better place for everyone.

“No one can get it right all of the time — not even the cops do,” she remarked with chagrin. Laurel then slid off the table and took a step towards him. “But I believed in the Hood, and I believe in you, too.”

Slowly, she wrapped her good arm around his middle and tucked her head under his chin, the best approximation of a hug she could manage at the moment. Oliver didn’t move away, but he stood still for a long moment. So long it had her holding her breath wondering if she’d done the wrong thing. But then, his arms came around her, one hand cupping the back of her head, and she felt as well as heard the shuddering breath he released in time with her own.

She’d asked the Hood once if the life he’d chosen to lead made him lonely. It was clear to her now that Oliver was.

Laurel stood there as long as she dared, until the throbbing in her shoulder was too much to ignore. She pulled back and couldn’t stop herself from reaching a hand up to touch the spot. When she darted a guilty look in Mr. Diggle’s direction, however, she found him smiling.

Oliver had focused in on her injury. “We really do need to get you to a hospital. Digg’s work is good, but you should have a professional look at it.”

“I know. But can it wait? Just a little,” she added as he frowned. “I just know the minute I’m checked in somewhere my father will show up, and after what happened tonight I’m not sure I can face him right now.”

“Of course,” Oliver said, voice soft. “Laurel, I’m so sorry he did this to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “I just, um, I guess I wish I could be surprised.” Laurel looked up, the smile she attempted wobbly at best, and found Oliver’s eyes swimming with remorse.

“Well, while you’re here, why don’t we give you the tour?” Mr. Diggle suggested.

She turned to him, grateful for the distraction. “Sure. Where even is here?”

“We’re under the club,” said Oliver.

“Wait, really?” They both nodded and she gave a slight shake of the head, trying to reorient herself. “Is that why you’re opening it?”

“More or less.”

“Well, I hope you have somewhere to stash all of this when you get inspected.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up in confusion, and Laurel stared at him. He couldn’t really not realize — but then he asked, “What inspection?”

“The building inspection? Ollie, you have to get everything about your place of business approved by the zoning board before you open. Now I’m sure there’s an inspector or two on the payroll who would take a bribe, but that’ll come back to bite you if anybody bothers looking into your finances.”

She watched Oliver and Mr. Diggle exchange a look.

“We- we’re looking into some options.”

“Right,” she said, unconvinced.

She was shown the basic layout of the place, not that there was too much down here. Even still, it was the Hood’s base. Oliver’s base. His eyes kept going to her shoulder, and Laurel knew she couldn’t delay getting it looked at by a real doctor forever.

Mr. Diggle was the one to help her into the back of a plain black car with tinted windows. He dropped her off at the mouth of an alley just two blocks from the hospital. Laurel walked herself right into the waiting room of the ER and up to the desk.

“Hi, I was hoping someone could look at my shoulder.”

“Alright, if you could fill out this—” the rest of the receptionist’s words died on his lips as he looked up. “Oh my God, it’s you!”

“Um, yeah. I’m not missing anymore.” If she could’ve shrugged, she probably would have. “And I’m not sure I really ever was.”

\---

Tommy cursed under his breath as he rounded yet another corner of the parking garage and found no open spaces. He nearly reached the roof before he was able to park and took the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

There wasn’t a helpful flashing sign pointing out Laurel’s room, so he threw himself at the first help desk he could find.

“I’m here to see Laurel Lance.”

“Are you family?”

“I’m her boyfriend. Please? I haven’t slept all night. And I brought her pajamas and a change of clothes.”

The woman at the desk relented with a sigh. “Down to the left, third room.”

Tommy flashed her as winning of a smile as he could manage while exhausted. “Thank you.”

He should have realized which room was hers from the start judging by the officer stationed outside it. He was allowed past with little fuss and found Laurel sitting up in the bed in a hospital gown and a strange white sling that crossed over both shoulders, her father and a doctor and nurse all standing to the sides.

“Hey.”

Laurel turned to him and managed a brief smile. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I was.” He walked forward and placed the bag in the currently vacant visitor’s chair, then leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. “I was worried sick about you.” Tommy looked back up to the doctor. “How’s she doing?”

“Better than we would have expected. Physical therapy is still highly recommended, of course, but her injury was very competently treated in a short amount of time.”

Tommy didn’t know how that was possible. “By who?”

“The Hood,” Lance said, practically a growl. “He made some sling out of scraps and put it on my daughter.”

“Your daughter who is awake and here and does not like being talked about as if she is not in the room,” Laurel added pointedly.

Lance grimaced. “We’ll, uh, we’ll leave you to get changed, honey.”

They all shuffled out and shut the door behind them. The nurse continued down the corridor, but Lance snagged the doctor’s arm before he could get away.

“Listen, is there anything you can tell me about her injuries or the job he did? I mean what kind of training would somebody have to do one of those splints?”

Tommy felt both his eyebrows raise. He hadn’t even realized there was something to be learned about the Hood from all this, but he guessed that’s why Lance had the badge.

The doctor hesitated. “Well, one thing I suppose you should know, Detective, is that the police report cannot be correct. Your daughter’s wound wasn’t inflicted by an arrow. I’d say it’s likely to have been from a rubber bullet.”

“Alright, alright, but what about him? The Hood? Is there anything we can use to narrow down just who this guy is?”

“Laurel didn’t have anything?” Tommy couldn’t help asking.

Lance scowled. “She’s not talking if she does.”

“She’s still sticking up for this guy? He got her shot,” Tommy said. He couldn’t believe how stubborn Laurel was about this lunatic in their city. He couldn’t believe she’d been meeting him in secret either.

“Yeah, well, that’s why we’ll have to make do with what we can find out on our own. So, doctor—”

The door to Laurel’s room flew open to reveal her standing there fully clothed and seething.

“I cannot _believe_ you two. After what just happened last night?”

Tommy exchanged a panicked look with her father and decided to allow him to try first.

“Laurel—”

“My body is not a crime scene!” She glared at each of them in turn before rounding on the doctor. “I didn’t sign any sort of release of information waiver, and my status as a legal adult means my father is not entitled to it even if he is on the force. So I’d suggest you think real hard about whether you want a lawsuit or not.”

She retreated back into her room with the slam of a door, leaving a very uncomfortable silence in her wake.

“I guess visiting hours are over?” Tommy joked weakly.

“I would suggest that you gentlemen return home for the time being,” said the doctor. “Visitation will reopen later in the morning.”

Lance didn’t look to like that much more than Tommy did, but before either of them could say anything, Laurel’s door was opening again, and this time she had her coat and bag.

“Laurel, what are you doing?” Her father asked.

“I’m discharging myself.”

“That wouldn’t be a course of action I recommend,” the doctor began.

“Well, I don’t really give a damn what any of you think right now.” She strode past them all down the corridor, heading for the elevators.

“Laurel!” Tommy had to jog to catch up with her quick march. “Laurel, wait, please. I brought the car.”

She did have to wait for the elevator, so he was able to catch up. He could tell she wanted to cross her arms but couldn’t due to her bad shoulder.

“Look, I’m sorry. But do you get that we were worried? You were missing for _hours_. And that Hood, he- he took you.” Something churned unpleasantly in his gut at the thought. He’d never liked the vigilante’s interest in Laurel, and this had been a step way too far in his book.

Laurel relaxed somewhat as they got into the elevator. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but it doesn’t change the fact that my father went over the line last night and still is. I have four weeks of physical therapy to look forward to because of him, not the Hood.”

Tommy thought he could argue the point that Laurel wouldn’t have even been on that roof without the Hood, but the doors opened out to the level he was parked on and they walked to the car in silence.

As they left the parking garage, Laurel sat up in surprise at all the news crews parked outside the front entrance.

“What are they doing here?”

“Probably hoping to get in for an interview,” he answered, tone clipped. “The whole thing was on TV.”

Laurel seemed to notice his mood and fell silent. They didn’t speak all the way back, not until they’d finally gotten into the apartment.

“So,” Tommy began as he hung up his coat. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

He shook his head. “Laurel, you cancelled on me because you said you had work. Next thing I know, you’ve been kidnapped in a standoff with the Hood.”

She winced. “Tommy, I’m sorry. It was about a case. Cyrus Vanch—”

“No, Laurel, the Hood is not work, okay? Vigilantes are not your coworkers. You were hurt, and it could have been so much worse. And as much as you want to blame your dad, you were the one who went to that rooftop!”

He regretted the outburst almost immediately, and the stricken look on Laurel’s face only made matters worse.

“Look, just promise me you’re not gonna put yourself in a position where that lunatic can get to you again, okay?”

“Tommy—”

“ _Please_ , Laurel.”

She looked down. “Nothing like that is going to happen again. I promise.”

He felt himself relax and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Okay, what do we need to do to get you ready for sleep?”

Laurel was able to do most of the work changing her clothes for pajamas. It was just the one sleeve she had trouble with, apparently, and he had a feeling it was only due to her exhaustion that she let him help. Because of the risk of further hurting her shoulder, he was going to be spending his nights the next few weeks in the guest room. A great feeling considering he’d only recently been allowed his own drawer in the bedroom.

The one thing Tommy could console himself with was that it was all over, and Laurel was safe. In time, her shoulder would heal. Maybe now their lives could get back to some kind of normal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I originally wanted to post the first chapter last Saturday, I'm switching to that schedule now rather than waiting for Sunday. Thanks very much for the comments so far, and I'm glad people are excited to see where this story goes.
> 
> Just a head's up; if you didn't notice, there is a Captain Stein in the character list of this story. I am borrowing the Captain from his one-off appearance in 2x17 and expanding his role while taking some creative liberties with where he fits into the world of Arrow. 
> 
> I am also making early use of Councilman Kullens and borrowing (with permission) ArlyssTolero's headcanon that Kullens was a member of Tempest. Many thanks to Arlyss for his permission to do so.
> 
> This week's chapter is definitely shorter than the opener; I don't really have uniform chapter lengths, as my regular readers probably already know. That being said, I hope you enjoy seeing how the consequences of this divergence from the canon start to take effect. Thanks for reading!

Cyrus Vanch watched the news on his brand new flat screen, a smile stretching across his face.

“ _Miss Lance has since stated she does not know where the Hood kept her during the hours she was missing, and police do not have any further leads._ ”

Vivian sat on the arm of his chair. “And what’s got you so pleased?”

He nodded to the screen where a picture of the lawyer was displayed.

“Her?”

“Calm down, baby, I’m thinking business here. My guy at the precinct tells me Lance was there for a meeting with the Hood, and it was the cops that shot at her.”

“So the cops are useless. I could’ve told you that.”

“It’s not them that interests me. The Hood. You know we gotta clear him out before we can run this town. And clearly he has a weakness.”

Vivian grinned. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Exactly. The boys and I will be going hunting.”

He stood, fixing the lines of the coat he had borrowed from his old lawyer’s closet.

“You think you should go tonight?” Vivian asked. “The police probably have her place surrounded in case that Hood is still hanging around her.”

Cyrus paused. “You know, babe, that’s not a bad thought.” Not that he was surprised; his girl had kept his various operations running the whole time he’d been in prison, after all. From what his guy on the inside said, that Detective Lance could be overbearingly protective.

“Alright. I’ll get my guy to find out if there’s a schedule, and we’ll wait it out. Let them get comfortable.”

It wouldn’t be too long. Good people always got complacent after a while.

\---

It had been a long week so far. As necessary as she knew it was, the physical therapy didn’t hurt any less for it. Tommy drove her there and back without complaint each day, and Laurel knew she really did need to find some way to make things up to him. Even if they fundamentally disagreed about the cause of her injury.

The police had been aimed at the two of them even before Oliver had moved her in between. She’d been in danger the moment they’d stormed onto the roof, and not before. It still was hard to believe her father had been willing to use her like that. She’d have preferred he just confiscate the vigilante phone instead of lying to her that he was okay with her having it. He had finally taken it at the hospital, not that she needed it anymore now that she knew the Hood’s identity.

That was another thing. Laurel was sure Tommy would feel differently if he knew the truth. He’d have to. Oliver and he had been best friends since childhood, practically brothers. Tommy would have to know she’d been safe with him. But she hadn’t had the chance to talk to Oliver since leaving the Verdant’s basement and knew that bringing Tommy into the know would have to be up to him.

“So, dinner?” Her boyfriend asked. He did not sound enthusiastic.

“Go ahead and pick something you want for delivery.” Laurel carefully lowered herself into the couch so as not to bump her shoulder. 

Tommy sorted through the menus and called. Once he hung up, a silence that wasn’t borne from comfort settled over them. Was it always going to be like this? Silence or arguing? They’d already had one fight about whether Laurel ought to bring charges against her father’s taskforce; Laurel was of the opinion that letting the police get away with spinning a false narrative and shooting at an unarmed civilian was wrong while Tommy took the line that she was lucky not to be getting charged herself with aiding and abetting a criminal.

She didn’t particularly need or want Tommy’s permission to go ahead with the charges, but it would have been nice to have his support. In the end, what decided things for her was that the last place she wanted to be any time soon was a police station. Not that home was much more welcoming these days.

Soon enough, there was a knock on the door, and Tommy looked glad to go receive it. She bent to get her wallet from her bag; even if he was getting it up front, she wanted to pay him back. It was her fault neither of them were in the mood for cooking or going out.

“Hey!”

Laurel looked up at the sound of a crash. Two men had shoved their way in, and one pushed Tommy up against the glass cabinet. Another looked around and spotted her.

Laurel lunged off the couch towards the desk, ripping the drawer open to grab the handgun. With one shaking hand, she managed to flip the safety off.

She stood and faced the second thug as he stumbled to a stop mere feet from her, hands raised.

“Get the hell out, or I will shoot.”

She couldn’t hold both hands to the gun like she’d been taught, and her aim would be worse as a result. But from this distance they both knew she had a good chance.

The thug backed up, his buddy releasing Tommy who fell to the floor. Laurel tried not to wince. She could see to him once they’d left.

Just as they both backed into the doorway, a third man appeared on the threshold. Cyrus Vanch himself.

“Oh, now this is interesting. I love a girl who can take care of herself.”

He walked past his two goons and into the apartment.

“Do not come any closer,” Laurel commanded.

Vanch ignored her. He looked at Tommy on the floor and tsked. “Pretty boy here clearly can’t cut it. But he’s not the one I’m interested in.”

“Leave, or I will fire.”

“Better idea,” Vanch said, pointing at her. “I want you to help me send a message to your other boyfriend. The tough guy.”

“Get. Out.”

The first rule of pointing a firearm was being prepared to shoot the target.

Vanch raised his other arm, a weapon of some kind in his hand. Laurel squeezed the trigger.

The kickback jolted through her and made her other shoulder sear with pain. But more importantly, Vanch went down, blood running down his side. He dropped the weapon. When she looked up, his goons had disappeared, and she heard the slam of the fire door to the stairwell.

“Damn,” Vanch gasped, his head falling back.

Laurel only just remembered to turn the safety back on before setting it down on the coffee table. Her fingers were shaking as she picked up her phone, but when the dispatch operator answered, she spoke clearly. “I need to request an ambulance and report an attempted home invasion. One attacker has been shot, and there is a victim with a possible concussion.”

As if cued, Tommy groaned and started to shift around.

“Tommy, don’t move! There’s broken glass all around you.”

His head lifted and he blinked at her. “Laurel?” Then his eyes drifted to Vanch on the floor. His face took on a look of horror as he looked back up at her. “...you shot him?”

Laurel stared back with no idea how to answer.

 _“Miss? I need your address,”_ the operator stated. _“Miss?”_

\---

Oliver, for the second time in a week, found himself hurrying to the scene of a crime involving Laurel. Only this time, he wasn’t one of the participants. In a way, that terrified him more; anything could have happened.

But he made it past the officers in the hall to find Laurel standing at the door to her guest room. A couple of EMTs were with Tommy, shining a light in his eyes and treating some scratches on his neck and arms with antiseptic.

“Hey.”

Laurel looked around, her furrowed brow clearing up at the site of him. Oliver held himself back from hugging her because of her injury and settled for laying a hand on her good arm instead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, for the most part. It could have been so much worse. Vanch brought a taser with him.”

“A taser?”

“I don’t think he was planning to kill me. He said he wanted to send a message. To the Hood.” She gave him a pointed look, then turned and headed down the hall towards her own room. He followed.

Once she had closed her door most of the way, he asked, “Did Vanch say it was about the Hood?”

“Not in so many words. I guess he must have gotten interested after I had you look into him. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I’m just glad you and Tommy are safe. What’s Vanch’s condition?”

“Critical.” Laurel looked down. “I was aiming for his leg, but I didn’t have both hands to hold the gun steady.”

“Hey, that wasn’t your fault.” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “He came in here, hurt someone you cared about and threatened you. You did what you needed to to survive.”

“I guess you have some experience with that.”

He nodded.

Laurel looked back at her closed door. “I wish Tommy felt the same way about it. You should’ve seen the look he gave me when he woke up.” Her good arm wrapped around herself.

“I’m sure he was just in shock, Laurel. He might even have a concussion. But if I know Tommy, he’ll be glad that you are safe.”

“Miss Lance?” A voice called.

Oliver reached to open the door for her, his other hand landing on the small of her back as he had to lean around her to do so. He followed Laurel back down to the guest room.

The EMTs were packing away their things. “It’s a minor concussion, fortunately. He should have bed rest and not too much strenuous activity for a week.”

“Guess that means I need medical leave,” Tommy remarked as he glanced up at Oliver.

“Not a problem. I’ll handle the club prep,” he promised.

“I guess we got off easy tonight.” Tommy laid his hand out and Laurel came over to take it. “Is your shoulder okay?”

“Yeah. I just don’t know how I’m getting to physical therapy now. Or work.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead. “But don’t worry about it.”

“I could help with that,” Oliver offered. “Me or Mr. Diggle.” It was his fault Laurel had been injured in the first place, and he wasn’t about to see her recovery go by the wayside.

“Geez, Ollie, you gunning for dad’s humanitarian of the year award or something?” Tommy asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. Just trying to be here for my friends.”

“Well, thank you.” Laurel walked back over to him and gave him a one-armed hug. He took care not to disturb her shoulder as he reciprocated. His eyes closed, and it wasn’t until he blinked them back open that he noticed Tommy staring.

Oliver stepped back. “I should let you guys get some sleep. Let me know if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine for a night,” Tommy said.

“Right.” With one last look, Oliver left the apartment. It wasn’t until he passed the same officers in the hall that it occurred to him there had been one prominently absent element during all of this.

He stopped and turned back to the officers. “Excuse me. Has Detective Lance already been by?”

One of them shook her head. “Miss Lance specifically requested he not be called to the scene.”

Oliver grimaced. He really had no idea how that particular rift between father and daughter would ever be healed. “Okay. Thank you.”

With that, he returned home.

\---

Thea wasn’t sure what to make of the past couple weeks. Between her friend and legal sponsor being kidnapped by the Hood and then a home invasion by a wannabe crime lord, she didn’t know why Laurel was even bothering to come into work.

When she said as much the first day Mr. Diggle stopped by to pick Laurel up, her friend replied, “Well, if I wasn’t going in, you’d have that much longer to wait to complete your service hours.”

“Good point,” Thea said. “How’s Tommy doing?”

“He’s fine. Trust me, he’s enjoying having a week off.”

Thea grinned. “Yeah, I bet.” He’d only been working a job for the last few months. No doubt he was itching for a vacation, and probably wishing Laurel had taken one with him.

“Well, I know I miss him,” Ollie said from up front. He was riding in the passenger seat so they wouldn’t all be squeezed into the back with Laurel’s injured shoulder. Thea hadn’t realized that was why until she’d asked when they were leaving the manor, but she thought it was pretty sweet of him.

Oliver was being nothing but sweet these days. Thea’s eyes had nearly bugged out of her skull that night when she’d been watching the news coverage and seen her brother’s announcement for a reward just for information about the Hood or Laurel’s whereabouts. Her mother had simply sighed with a weary smile and reached for a checkbook.

She didn’t know if they were actually on the hook for any payments, seeing as how Laurel had walked herself right into a hospital, but Thea wasn’t about to go bugging either her brother or mom about it. Some things she just didn’t want to get in the middle of.

Mr. Diggle stopped in front of CNRI and Thea got out of the car. Oliver got out as well and came to open Laurel’s door.

“I’m fine, Ollie.”

“I know, but there’s no reason to risk it. I’ll be back at four to get you for physical therapy.”

“Okay, thanks.” The two of them shared a smile, and then Laurel turned and headed for the building.

“See ya,” Thea said to her brother before turning and following. She glanced back at Oliver as he waited by the car before getting back in, a lot of questions buzzing through her head.

Some of those questions she couldn’t help asking. She held off successfully for about three days. “So what is the Hood like, really? What’s his lair look like?”

Laurel shook her head. “He doesn’t have a lair. And I don’t know. I was blindfolded.”

Thea raised both eyebrows. “He’s into some weird stuff, then.”

Laurel choked on what sounded like a laugh as Oliver, who was making a weird face in the rear view mirror, said, “The Hood is a cold-blooded killer, Thea. I don’t think his actions have to do with anything other than most efficiently completing that goal.”

“Well, if that were true, I don’t see why I’m still alive,” Laurel countered.

Oliver glanced back at her. “Even as crazy as he is, he’d have to be a whole lot worse before he thought you had ‘failed this city’. Or whatever his dumb catchphrase is.”

Laurel didn’t reply, turning her face towards the window instead. But Thea thought she could see a smile in the reflection.

Thea couldn’t explain what felt different. Just that, the way Laurel looked at her brother these days wasn’t with the same guarded skepticism she’d had ever since Ollie had come back. It was something warmer. Fonder. Like Ollie was someone she believed in again.

And Ollie...well, everyone had known how he wanted things to go when he got back. And they hadn’t, of course, and Laurel had started officially seeing Tommy instead. Which just left Oliver sort of there. Thea could only wonder if her brother was just going to hang around waiting forever for a chance he’d already lost. That was, if it was really lost at all.

But it wasn’t her business. Considering what had happened the last time she’d assumed something about her family’s romantic relationships, it would only do her good to leave it alone. She loved Oliver, Laurel, and Tommy. They were some of the only people left in her life now that all her so-called friends at school had cut her out of their circle for getting clean.

Thea just hoped neither her brother nor either of his friends would end up on the outs like she was, however things went.

\---

If there was one thing Police Captain Harry Stein hated most, it was a failed op. And so far, the op he was running to catch the vigilante commonly known as the Hood was failing.

He was allowing Detective Lance the illusion of running the Anti-Vigilante Taskforce, but that was merely because one would be expected to exist, and better to put the bull in a china shop that was Lance in charge of the public-facing op while he ran his own operations, sometimes piggybacking off of Lance’s but mostly taking what the detective was doing the step beyond that which he appeared willing to go.

For example, if Harry had been in charge of bugging Lance’s daughter, he wouldn’t have stopped there; he’d have placed a tracker on her as well. Then they’d already know where the Hood was making his base of operations. They could have swarmed him and hauled him in front of a judge by now. But Quentin Lance didn’t have the mind for such things. He would have considered it a breach of his daughter’s privacy too far no doubt.

Harry had tried to do follow-up on the Laurel Lance angle regardless. He had had two plainclothes officers stationed outside her apartment every night since her return by the Hood, and they were instructed not to intervene in anything until the vigilante himself were to show up. That had included standing down for that business with Cyrus Vanch. It wouldn’t have done any good to apprehend the man if it would’ve stopped the Hood from coming back to Laurel Lance’s apartment. But it had been weeks now, and the vigilante had yet to show. So what did that tell him?

Either the Hood was choosing to stay away from Laurel Lance or the two had found another means to communicate. Proving the latter would be tricky without some sort of evidence to bring Laurel Lance in on; a lawyer like her would know that. But Harry could not stand the idea of the woman collaborating with a vigilante only to get off scot free for it, and all while giving the SCPD a black eye. Yes, Harry had superseded Detective Lance’s order to hold fire until his daughter was out of the way, but as far as Harry was concerned she had been a fellow criminal, not an innocent hostage.

There were other matters to consider as well. Councilman Kullens had been to his office this afternoon to discuss matters pertinent to the society group he belonged to, Tempest. Commissioner Nudocerdo had always been the one to entertain such discussions before his disgraced resignation — not that Harry felt Brian had done much wrong blaming the Hood for his own copycat — but as the Captain, Harry was the presumed leader of the department, and he found himself under certain obligations, like finding ways to punish Tempest’s enemies such as this Hood. He hadn’t found a way to do that, much to his frustration, but what he did have was a known conspirator to the vigilante’s crusade.

So what was to be done about Quentin Lance’s daughter? An arrest wouldn’t stick and the Hood clearly wasn’t watching her place closely enough to stage a home invasion that they might catch him in. Considering she was armed and willing to stand her ground — a rare trait in a lady — he didn’t want to risk men loyal to him on that kind of operation. It wouldn’t be so easy to brush aside, either, what with Laurel Lance being well-educated, connected and frankly of a demographic this sort of thing didn’t happen to.

Physically threatening the young lady was out, but there were other ways to make examples of people. Harry picked up his office phone to dial.

“Kate? It’s Harry. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about those people over at CNRI. Off the record, if you don’t mind.”

Kate Spencer understood these sorts of things just as well as any of them, and she never even had to know she was acting on behalf of Tempest. It was the best way to keep this city running day-to-day, and no vigilante or his helpers could be tolerated in disrupting it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Apologies for another short update, but given what happens, it kind of needed its own chapter. This is really the big tipping point where Laurel’s life and journey are going to go careening down a much different path than the show depicted in season 1. Since some of you have guessed where this is heading already, I won’t keep you waiting on reading any longer. Enjoy!

The end of the next week started out as a normal day. More normal than the last couple weeks had been, anyway. She had gotten up early, moving about the apartment with care not to wake Tommy, and gotten dressed for work. This was helped by the fact that she finally had use of both arms again. Talk about taking small things for granted.

Since she could drive herself, she met Thea at CNRI instead of being picked up by her brother or his bodyguard. She hadn’t minded that routine, but she liked having the freedom of her own movement.

A few hours into filling out some of the preliminary paperwork for a deposition, she received an email on her computer. Their boss wanted to see her in her office.

“Thea, see if you can locate the Schmidt folder. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Laurel headed back into the office. “Hey, Eric. What’s up?”

He looked up, the slightest frown on his face. “Sit down, Laurel. And close the door.”

She did so. “Why do I feel like this isn’t a ‘just checking in’ meeting?”

Eric sighed. “Because it’s not. Look, Laurel, you’re one of our best here. You know that. And I don’t like having to do this.”

There was a _but_ hanging so heavily there she didn’t even bother to voice it. Just kept staring her boss down.

“It’s our investors. The ones we have left, so you can imagine we need to do all we can to hang onto them.”

“Yes.”

“Which is why I’m telling you they’re not exactly happy to have you on staff here.”

“What?”

Eric held up his hands. “Look, everything with the Hood is kind of making them nervous. Makes me nervous a bit too, if I’m being honest. The guy’s unpredictable. And they don’t like his methods.”

“I’m guessing they like his choice of targets even less,” she said with narrowed eyes. It figured they were more willing to empathize with their guilty fellows than to care about the innocents the Hood had helped.

“The point is, they’re not comfortable continuing to support our organization while you have this- this connection to him. And Kate Spencer has had a few things to say about it as well.”

“Let me get this straight.” Laurel leaned forward in her chair. “They’re holding my job hostage?”

“They’re holding all of us hostage. If you aren’t gone, CNRI is. But, there’s one way they’re willing to reconsider.”

“And that would be?”

“If you were to make a public statement clarifying that you do not support the vigilante known as the Hood or his activities, they would be happy to see you remain on staff.”

“Happy to see me toeing the party line, you mean.”

“It’s out of my hands, Laurel,” Eric said. “You’re the only one who can help yourself here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“I’ll expect your decision tomorrow.”

Laurel was able to register the dismissal for what it was, even if she felt detached somehow from this moment. Like this was happening to someone else, and she was only a passive observer. She stood and left the room to return to her desk, but it didn’t even feel like she’d been the one to move. Her mind was too busy racing.

The philanthropists who thought they were God’s gift to man for keeping CNRI’s doors open were getting nervous about her connection to the Hood. To Oliver. If she wanted to stay, she had to delegitimize his whole mission to save the city. But she couldn’t, not when it was the one thing she really had left to believe in.

“So I got that file you were asking for—” Thea looked up as she approached and paused. “Hey, you okay?”

She was a beat too late in responding, and she was sure her smile looked forced. “Yeah. Just, uh, had to go over some things with my boss.”

“Okay.” Thea was watching her, so Laurel pushed everything else from her mind for the time being. She didn’t want her friend to worry.

Her boss was giving her the day to decide, but Laurel already knew what her decision had to be. Without Oliver, she would have never seen Adam Hunt’s victims get back the money they were owed thanks to the judge Hunt had bought who she’d been due to present the case in front of; she’d be dead in the ground thanks to Martin Sommers and the Triad; Peter Declan’s daughter would be an orphan. There was no decision to make. Even if it cost her her job.

Laurel stood. She couldn’t maintain her composure here, and she needed time to think about what her next move would truly have to be.

“Hey, Thea? I actually need to take a half day today. I’m really sorry.”

“Okay,” her friend agreed uncertainly. There was almost a scared look to her eyes.

“Just ask Anastasia for any additional tasks, and you can go home whenever you want.” She shrugged into her coat and rolled her left shoulder a couple of times to work some lingering stiffness out of it. She’d been out of the splint for only a couple of weeks now, and her mandatory physical therapy had just drawn to an end. That was lucky; no job would mean no health insurance. Yet again, it was probably on purpose. No one would know better how bad the optics would look on firing an injured nonprofit employee than a group of lawyers.

Laurel paused alone in the stairwell and pressed a hand to her forehead. No job… what was she going to do?

\---

Tommy was just getting ready to head out to the Verdant when their front door opened and Laurel walked in.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Hey, you’re home early.” He leaned in for a brief kiss, but Laurel turned her face so that his lips landed on her cheek instead.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Her smile faltered and then fell as he stepped back to look at her. “I lost my job.”

He dropped his keys. “What?”

“Apparently it has been decided that CNRI and I should part ways because the investors are making noise upstairs. Not to mention the DA,” Laurel explained. She walked around him, setting her bag down and kicking her shoes off along the way.

“Noise about what?”

“The Hood,” she admitted as she found her spot on the couch.

Him again. He only barely held back a groan. “Well, what about it? You told the police you didn’t have any information to help their investigation.” He eyed her sitting there for a moment, wondering not for the first time if that was true.

“They think my association with him sends a message. And they probably don’t like that he’s gone after some of their friends.”

“But that’s what _he’s_ doing. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He walked over towards the couch as well. “Just because the Hood’s got some creepy thing for you—”

“He does not have a thing for me,” Laurel said with a shake of her head.

Tommy felt that was very much in dispute, but he set it aside to focus on the main issue.

“There’s gotta be something we can do. They can’t just fire you like that, after all the cases you’ve won them.”

“Well, they said I could possibly stay on if I publicly denounced the Hood,” she told him.

Relief hit him like a wave. “Okay. Good. At least they’re not totally unreasonable.”

“I’m not going to do it, Tommy.” Her voice and gaze were completely steady even as she was turning the whole world upside down. “I can’t.”

He only barely kept his voice below shouting. “Laurel, come on. What’s the problem?”

“It’s intimidation, for one thing. They’re trying to delegitimize what he’s doing. Stop people from taking his message to heart to keep them from fighting against the powerful and the corrupt in Starling.” Laurel crossed her arms over her chest and continued, “And anyway, it’d be a lie. I still believe in what he’s doing, and I think it’s a good thing. I don’t want to be a part of what stops that.”

“ _You_ do good things for the city. Think of your clients, all those people you’ve helped.”

“A lot of those people this year only got help because the Hood intervened. Hunt, Sommers, Brodeur, all of those guys would have walked away from a regular court case. The justice system in this city is broken, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise.”

“So you’re fine with him just breaking it more?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep innocent people from suffering.”

She was determined to be stubborn. There was no getting through to her, at least for the moment. Tommy threw his hands up and went to grab his jacket.

“How long did they give you to decide?”

“Tomorrow. I have to go in and clean out my desk.”

“Or to make your statement. I have to go to the club, but we’re not done talking about this.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Tommy,” Laurel said.

He paused at the door and shook his head. “Just let the idea of unemployment and no money sink in for a few hours, okay? It did wonders for me.”

He headed down to his parked car in a much sourer mood than he’d wanted to be in to start back at work. Laurel was determined and not listening to him. But if she wouldn’t listen to him, maybe…

He was going to have to swallow his pride on this one. At least for the moment.

\---

Tommy was running late. Oliver didn’t mind that so much; it put off his plans for tonight. The longer he could avoid heading to Queen Consolidated to confront his own mother, the better.

And he soon received additional distraction in the form of his sister, who hurried up to the bar with a nervous sort of energy.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Ollie, I think Laurel was fired.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard that right. “What for?”

“I don’t know. She went in to talk to her boss, and then she told me she was taking a half day, but Anastasia and some of the others started talking after she left,” his sister said all in a rush.

Some people talking was just gossip, but why would they assume Laurel had been fired? What was going on?

He spotted Tommy at last, and his best friend looked in about as bad a mood as he’d ever seen him.

“Ollie, you gotta help me out.”

“Laurel was fired.”

“Yeah, how’d you — oh, Speedy, hey.”

“Hey,” said Thea. “It’s true?”

“Not quite.” Tommy looked at him. “She says they’re willing to let her stay if she just makes a statement about how crazy and wrong the Hood is.”

Oliver didn’t have to feign his shock. “They’re firing her because of the Hood?”

“Yeah, well their investors are kind of his target profile, aren’t they? And he is crazy, I agree with them on that.” Tommy scowled. “But Laurel doesn’t.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “She’s refusing to make the statement.”

“She’s refusing to make the statement,” Tommy echoed in confirmation.

“Well, isn’t it enough that this guy got her shot?” Thea asked. “I mean, they have to know she’s not in league with him if he was willing to use her as a human shield.”

Oliver tried not to wince at the words or the disgust with which Thea spoke them. His sister wasn’t wrong to feel that way; it was one of his lowest moments, and he was still paying for the repercussions of it now.

And Laurel was paying for them perhaps even more.

Tommy’s anger had faded. He turned to him with pleading in his eyes. “I can’t watch her throw her life away on this guy, Ollie.”

“You won’t have to,” he promised. Oliver walked away from the bar and out to the back, swinging onto his motorcycle. As he drove, the comm hooked into his helmet activated.

“ _Oliver, we really need to get a move on._ ”

“Not right now, Digg.”

“ _Why not?_ ”

“Laurel’s been fired because of her connection to the Hood.”

There was a pause on the other end. “ _Damn._ ”

“I have to talk to her. My mother can wait another night.” He knew he couldn’t put it off forever, but Laurel’s problem was far more time sensitive.

He went up to her apartment and knocked, and Laurel didn’t look at all surprised to see him when she opened the door.

“So, I take it you heard the news?”

“From Tommy.” He stepped through the doorway as she moved back, and he stood by the couch rather than sit down. Laurel shut the door and walked over.

“I’m going to make sure Thea is given another sponsor there to finish out her community service,” she told him, which caught him off guard for a moment.

“Well, thank you. But that’s not my main concern.” He looked her in the eye. “Tommy said there’s a way for you to keep your job.”

“I’m guessing he also told you I’m not interested in that way.”

His brow furrowed. “Laurel, this is an easy fix.”

She scoffed. “What about any of this is easy?”

“No one’s asking you for my identity. They’re just asking you to say what I’m doing is wrong.”

“How can I do that?”

“You just—” he struggled for the right word for a few moments. “— _do._ ”

“But you aren’t — what you’re doing is complicated,” Laurel settled on. “And your methods sometimes have concerned me. I don’t know that I agree with everything. But it’s necessary work. For the state that this city is in, it’s needed.”

He tried changing tactics. “My father asked me to right his wrongs, to bring justice to the people who are poisoning the city. Letting those same people force you out of your job is directly counter to that mission. I can’t let that happen.”

Laurel only frowned. “Maybe it’s all about the mission to you, Oliver, but the people in the Glades don’t know that. What they know is that for the first time in years they have hope. They feel like someone has seen their struggle and decided to do something about it. How can I tell them that they are wrong to believe in that and then turn around and expect them to trust me to fight for them?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. They both knew it. Where he relied on secrecy and lies, Laurel had always kept her integrity when dealing with her clients. Letting her in on his identity had complicated that.

“How can I let you do this, Laurel? It’s your career, your _life._ ”

“And it’s my decision to make. I would’ve made it knowing your identity or not, but at least knowing it gives me more than just a blind faith.”

Oliver didn’t know how Laurel or people in the Glades could have faith in him. He was a killer going after other killers. That was all. He wasn’t some hero.

“What will you do?” It was the only appeal he had.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. But I’m going to. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“It’s not that simple, Laurel.” He shook his head. “I’m always going to worry about you.”

She sighed. “Then I guess we have to settle for that.” She walked over to and sat on one of her chairs. “Look, I’m not happy to be losing my job, but I’d be even less happy if I compromised myself to keep it.”

“Nothing’s totally free from compromise. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to to keep going,” he said.

“But I haven’t been going anywhere at CNRI,” she replied. “All of my big cases this year have been won or settled because of the things you were doing as the vigilante. The law on its own has stopped being able to fix things in this city. Isn’t that why you’re out there?”

The problem was she was right. The problem, too, was that being right didn’t get her job back. He sat on the arm of the couch.

“What can I do? Do they need money? Different backers? I could—”

“You need that money to disguise purchasing your arrows,” Laurel cut him off. “And it would be your mother’s call as to whether Queen Consolidated became a full-time backer.”

Considering the little John had picked up from spying on his mother, Oliver doubted she would make the time or expense at the moment.

“Oliver, you set out to save this city, not my job.”

“Well, it’s part of saving the city. You help save it,” he insisted.

Her lips twitched into a smile despite herself.

“You’re really going to tell them no?”

She nodded.

Oliver sighed. That was the thing about Laurel; when her mind was made up, that was it. And unfortunately, he hadn’t made a single argument for why she should denounce the Hood that didn’t ultimately come back to keeping her comfortable. Laurel never cared about that.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. Ultimately this was his fault. He’d gotten too close, forgotten that while he’d protected his own identity with a hood that Laurel hadn’t had that same protection.

“It’s going to be fine, Ollie. I’ve already started a job search,” she stated.

He gave a small grin. “Of course you have.”

“So, you can tell Tommy that things will be okay,” she continued. “I know he’s upset.”

“He’s just worried about you.”

“Well, he seemed more angry at the Hood than anything,” she replied. “Do you think…?”

Oliver shook his head. “The less people that know, the better. And like you said, he isn’t exactly a fan.”

Laurel’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

His phone buzzed, and Oliver checked it to find a message from Digg: _Your mom’s gone home_

“Something wrong?”

“No. No, I just missed something tonight.”

“You mean the vigilante did?” She stood and moved to the door. “Really, Oliver, I don’t want to be in the way of anything.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t urgent.” Digg would probably say otherwise, but that didn’t matter right now. “You’re more important.”

“Well, now that you’ve seen I’m perfectly fine, I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

He got up, meeting her at the door. “If you need anything,” he began.

“I know where to find you,” she finished for him. “Goodnight, Ollie.”

“Goodnight.”

As he left, Oliver did decide to take an early night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the club and Tommy empty-handed.

Laurel leaving CNRI because of the Hood. What had he done?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for another week. This one is at least a good length, in my opinion, and quite a lot happening in it. I'm excited to hear what people think. Thanks for reading!

Joanna couldn’t believe it when she first got the news. But the multiple texts from her coworkers at CNRI proved its veracity: Laurel was being forced out.

She headed over to her friend’s apartment and was let in by a surly Tommy Merlyn.

“You wouldn’t be here to talk some sense into her, would you?”

“I’m here to support my friend.” Joanna headed past him into the sitting room where Laurel looked up from her laptop.

“Hey. I guess you heard.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?” She’d meant to come by even earlier to see her after that whole incident with her injury, but they’d had family in visiting still. It didn’t keep her from feeling guilty for not being there when Laurel clearly needed someone.

She shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Just your career,” Tommy reminded them all as he passed by on his way back to the bedrooms. The door shut hard behind him.

Joanna hid a wince and took the spot next to Laurel on the couch. “Where have you been looking?”

“Everywhere?” Laurel shifted so she could look at the cover letter her friend was drafting. “It’s a little hard when I can’t talk much about my only place of employment or use them as a reference.”

“I guess your reputation of taking down corporate big shots isn’t too helpful when applying for corporate law.”

“No, it is not.”

Joanna shook her head. This was so unfair and everyone knew it. “You want me to talk to Eric?”

Laurel shook her head. “It won’t do any good. He’s under the thumb of CNRI’s backers.”

“And those backers want you to starve?”

“They want to see the Hood punished. Since they can’t do that, I guess I’m the next best thing.”

“But you’re more than just a connection to the Hood. If you hadn’t been helping me solve my brother’s murder, nobody would even know you’ve worked with him. None of this would’ve happened.” Joanna hung her head.

“I wouldn’t take it back if it meant not exposing the truth about your brother’s death. Or saving the chief. Those were good things.”

Before Joanna could answer, the bedroom door opened again and Tommy stopped in the sitting room. “I’m heading out.”

Laurel set her laptop aside and stood. “Okay. Did you want me to wait on dinner?”

“I’ll eat while I’m out.” He gave a curt nod to Joanna, then turned and headed to the front door.

Laurel wavered on the balls of her feet. “Have a good day,” she called just before the door shut.

“Does he really have to start at the club that early?”

“His hours are what he wants them to be. And right now, he does not want to be here.” Laurel sighed and dropped back down into her spot. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe… maybe you just take the deal. It’d make things a lot easier for you and your relationship,” she pointed out. It was the practical choice. The safe one. But she knew Laurel was rarely interested in safe or practical.

Her friend looked at her. “Jo, you know as well as I do what lying about the Hood would look like to our clients.”

She grimaced. That was a hard point to refute. Laurel was good at what she did precisely because of the trust she garnered in their clients. They really believed she was willing to put everything on the line in the name of justice. The time had come to prove she was.

“There is one thing about CNRI,” Laurel told her. “Thea. Anastasia has agreed to become her temporary sponsor, but when you go back to work, I’d really appreciate it if you could take over. I feel like Thea could learn a lot from you.”

She felt herself smile. “Yes, of course. Actually, on one condition.” Laurel frowned, but Joanna wasn’t worried. “If you ever need anything, you let me know. A reference, food — my mom misses cooking for a group.”

“I don’t think things are that drastic yet,” Laurel was quick to say.

“You never know. It isn’t exactly cheap to live in this town. Except in the Glades.”

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed quietly. “Thank you for the offer, Jo. Really.”

“I’m your friend, Laurel. It’s what we do. I’m gonna miss you when I go back.”

“You’ll do fine without me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t love the odds,” Joanna told her. Laurel pulled her in for a hug.

“Me neither. But we have to keep fighting.”

She nodded into Laurel’s shoulder. Then she pulled back. “So, jobs. You try the DA’s office yet?”

“Yeah, I think Kate Spencer is my least biggest fan at the moment.”

Joanna couldn’t help a snort. “Yeah. That figures.”

Laurel joined her in laughter. Sometimes that was all you could do.

\---

It had taken him practically begging for Laurel to finally come see him at the station. She wouldn’t go to his home, and he knew he still wasn’t welcome in hers. That was assuming it was hers for much longer, the way she was going.

“I don’t get it. I really don’t. They don’t wanna let you go. Nobody wants to see you leave CNRI. You’re the best they got!” He paced back and forth in the space between table and wall of the interrogation room he’d commandeered to try and talk some sense into his daughter. “Why would you throw that away?”

“Because if I agreed to what they’re asking, I wouldn’t be the best anymore. I’d just prove to be susceptible to coercion.”

“Coercion to help control a criminal. That’s not coercion, that’s- that’s cooperating with law enforcement!”

“A lot of people in the Glades see that as the same thing,” she stated while looking straight at him.

“Hey now,” he said, raising a warning finger. “I’m not saying this department is perfect, but you gotta have order in a society. This Hood guy, he’s disrupting that.”

“If it was already so broken, maybe it needed disrupted,” she argued.

Quentin could feel his frustration mounting despite his promise to himself not to get angry with her today. The investors at CNRI were pushing the issue because he’d pushed it first — but there wouldn’t _be_ an issue if she’d just see reason!

They were interrupted by a quick rap on the door and the desk sergeant poking his head in.

“Detective, there’s a woman at the desk asking — well, she called you Laurel Lance’s father,” the sergeant amended with a glance Laurel’s way. “I think she might really be looking for you, Miss.”

Laurel took a step forward, but he said, “Send her back here.”

The desk sergeant left and returned a few minutes later with an older woman with dark skin whose face lit up when she saw his daughter.

“Well, Miss Lance!”

“Hello, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel embraced the other woman, and Quentin tried to remember if she’d been a client or family of one.

“I heard through the grapevine you’d been fired. It’s a disgrace, and after everything you’ve done for that office!”

“Thank you,” His daughter said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“You find some other work yet?”

“Not just yet. Most of the law firms in this city aren’t too keen to attach my name to themselves at the moment.”

“I thought so. Well, they’re all a bunch of thieves anyway. So listen, if you need something to keep you afloat, I’ve been asking around. My neighbor’s aunt has this friend, she’s got a flower shop on Wells and 17th Street, and she’s been looking for a helper for a while now. Arthritis getting bad in her fingers.”

“Oh,” said Laurel. She glanced his way, uncertain. “I’ll have to stop by and introduce myself.”

“Mm-hm. It’s honest work, which beats most things. Gotta put the food on the table.” She looked to him as if expecting to share a grin. Quentin’s lips didn’t even twitch.

Mrs. Ross dropped her gaze to her purse, which she rifled around in. “Here, I wrote the address down for you. You show up anytime and just tell her I sent you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ross.” Laurel hugged her again. “It means a lot.”

“Well, we all gotta help each other, cause them upstairs never will.” She darted a look in Quentin’s direction and stepped back. “You take care, now.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ross left the room, and the silence in her wake was deafening. Laurel looked down at the paper in her hands, which was really just a way of avoiding looking at him.

“A florist?” He finally asked. “That’s what you’re gonna be now?”

Laurel grimaced. “Has to beat retail, right?”

“Laurel, honey, just be reasonable, alright? No vigilante is worth this much no matter what he’s done.”

“And what am I worth?” Laurel asked. “My word, my integrity. That’s what’s on the line here just as much as his reputation. If your boss asked you to lie about some case just because it would make a few CEOs happy, would you do it, dad?”

If he answered truthfully, it wouldn’t make everything right again. Except: “Lying about a case is a lot different than saying a criminal’s a criminal.”

Laurel shook her head before walking to the door. “The next time you wonder why residents in the Glades don’t trust the cops? Remember that.”

She left without letting him respond. It never helped that the both of them always wanted the last word.

“Detective?”

“What?” He snapped. Kelton just blinked at him, and he sighed. “What was it?”

“The incident report was filed for the, uh, Winick Building use of force.”

He straightened up right away. If he couldn’t save Laurel from her own reckless decisions, he could at least nail the idiot who had hurt her that night. “Well?”

“The rubber bullet came from Officer Daily’s weapon.”

“Daily.” Something had always seemed off about that one. He hadn’t even been one of Quentin’s first picks that night, just volunteered because he was on shift. Probably one of those gun-happy nuts who thought the job was more about shooting people than about keeping the peace. Quentin never minded knocking one of those guys down a peg. “Good work, Kelton.”

He left the interview room and headed to Frank’s office where he rapped on the door. It took a few minutes for his superior to open it.

“Got a minute?”

“I suppose,” Frank Pike sighed. “It’s either now or later with you anyway.”

He showed him in, though Quentin remained standing. “You see the incident report?”

“Well? What’s gonna happen to Daily?”

Frank brought his hands together in a gesture that rarely meant good news. “That’s up to Captain Stein’s decision. From what I understand, there will be no disciplinary action.”

Quentin thought he felt his eyes bug out. “What do you mean, no disciplinary action? The man shot a civilian!”

“It’s a difficult situation, Quentin, one you probably should have thought of before you made your daughter a person of interest to the Taskforce,” Frank pointed out none-too-gently. “Daily believed he was shooting at the vigilante. He has expressed no ill intent towards Laurel or any other civilians since. Laurel didn’t even press charges.”

“And you’re lucky she didn’t since it would’ve exposed us being caught in another lie,” he snarked. “Look, if Stein wants to let the whole thing go, that’s his prerogative. But Daily was under _my_ command that night, so I’ll decide—”

“You won’t go near Daily,” Pike said, standing from his desk. “You won’t speak to him, won’t touch him. It’s a huge conflict of interest, Quentin, one that could see you in front of an ethics committee if Stein decided to pursue the matter.”

Quentin stood there a minute, hardly daring to believe it. Far from threatening him, Frank was trying to protect him, and from his own superior. But he was also protecting an officer who had demonstrated gross misconduct. “You know this isn’t right, though.”

“I know what my orders are. I’m telling you what yours are now. Are we understood?”

Quentin looked down, his jaw working for a moment or so. “Sure.” Then he left the office.

Back at his desk, he checked the incident report. Nowhere in it did it actually confirm that Laurel had been _struck_ by Daily’s bullet; it simply made note that Daily’s gun had been returned with one bullet missing. The official record would never hold him accountable and, apparently, neither would any of them.

Why nobody trusted the cops indeed.

\---

It had been a long evening of arguing with the contractors yet again. Tommy had been hoping to be done with that long ago, but thanks to the fire last month, they were still in the building process. It didn’t help matters that Oliver tended to disappear as soon as he turned his back for more than a few minutes. He was just glad to be heading home for one night.

Tommy entered the apartment, frowning as he took in the stripped-down sight of it.

“Laurel?”

“Hey.” She came in from the bedroom, a notepad in one hand and a box under her other arm. It looked to have some of her court suits folded up inside.

“What’s going on?”

“I started an account to sell some extra things for rent this month. Since CNRI is a nonprofit that struggles to stay open as it is, they don’t exactly have severance packages.”

“You’re auctioning off your belongings,” he stated flatly.

“They’re clothes, Tommy, not precious heirlooms.”

“And what about next month’s rent? What’ll you have to give up, then?” Even if Laurel let him cover all of it, they’d barely make it along with food and other expenses. He was too proud to ask Oliver for a raise, especially so soon, and it shouldn’t be necessary. None of this was necessary, but Laurel was stubborn enough to go ahead with it anyway.

She seemed to sense his irritation, for it was apologetic eyes she turned on him. “Next month I’m hoping to be out of here. The landlord already said he’s happy to waive the fee for breaking the lease. I think he’ll be glad to have less attacks.” When he didn’t even crack a smile, Laurel started playing with the hem of her sweater. “I’m taking a job at a flower shop for now. So we’ll have to start looking for something in a cheaper neighborhood.”

A flower shop. That was the next grand step in this plan of hers.

He couldn’t believe this. All this time, he’d seen Laurel as something of an unattainable ideal, with some faults perhaps, but nothing in comparison to his own. While he’d been drinking and sleeping through life, she had followed a path to success. And all of that she was willing to give up for the sake of some killer who had decided to make her a centerpiece for his crazed vendetta on the city. He couldn’t just stand by and watch that happen.

Tommy had been trying to make himself better for her, but it seemed clear to him now that the problems in this relationship weren’t just with him.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, we will. But separately.”

“What do you mean?”

He gathered a breath. “I thought I wanted this. You. But I was wrong.”

He walked back towards the bedroom. Laurel set her box down and followed him, her eyes widening as she found him pulling clothes out of the drawer — the drawer he had fought tooth and nail to get only a month ago.

“Tommy, talk to me.”

“Why should I? You haven’t been talking to me. Not about meeting up with the Hood, not about the decisions you’re making with your career, the apartment.”

“My career is my choice,” she argued, yet her shoulders slumped as she added, “But I shouldn’t have lied to you about meeting the Hood. I know that, Tommy. And we can still make this work—”

“Just answer me this,” he said, turning back to her as he shut the drawer. “Would you give up everything you’re giving up right now for me?”

Laurel’s head gave a minute shake. “Why would I need to?”

“Exactly. You wouldn’t, because I would never ask you to. But you’re giving it up for him.”

She frowned. “Tommy, this is about what’s best for the city. Not the Hood.”

“It’s about him for me, Laurel,” he stated. “I’m not stupid. You’re committed to him in a way you’re just not to me. I don’t know why, or what this lunatic has that keeps you so loyal to him.”

“He’s—”

Tommy held up a hand. “I don’t really care anymore. I can’t keep caring when you’re ignoring what’s best for you to keep him going. I’m done, Laurel.”

“Tommy, please.” She followed him back out to the front room. “I need you.”

“If you needed me, you wouldn’t have gone to him in the first place.”

Tommy shut the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the stinging and the tears, and he walked forward to the elevator. Laurel’s crying grew quieter in his ears the further he got away, but not his mind.

He paused in the elevator, his eyes on the apartment door. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket with a news alert.

_Hood attacks Queen family matriarch at QC_

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and he hit the close door button. The Hood was an enemy to the people he cared about, whether they could see it for themselves or not.

\---

John worked frantically to restart Oliver’s heart. He didn’t know what had gone wrong, but the machine kept up its flat, dead tone.

At least until Felicity Smoak fixed the wires. It was with relief that he realized there was actually nothing wrong with Oliver. His friend was just resting and recovering.

He and Felicity talked while they waited for Oliver to wake up. John could tell she was searching for some kind of reason to stay and accept what was happening, what she now knew. He did his best to explain his own rationale for helping a vigilante.

But at an extremely late hour, the door upstairs opened, revealing a miserable sight.

John stood up straight. “Laurel? Something wrong?”

“Um, hi, John.” The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice came out quiet and a little hoarse. She must have been crying a while.

But when her eyes widened upon spotting Oliver on the table, it was any guess as to the reason. “Oliver. Is he okay? What happened?”

Laurel rushed down to their friend’s side, her hand reaching to take his where it hung limply at his side.

“He took a bullet. Should be okay with time,” John told her.

“It was his mother,” Felicity added.

Laurel looked up sharply. “Mrs. Queen?”

John nodded. “We got some intel that she might know something about his father’s list. He tried asking her about it as himself, but she wouldn’t answer. So then he gave it a try as the Hood.”

“And Mrs. Queen gave a try at putting the Hood down,” Felicity remarked.

“She must’ve panicked. If she’d had any idea,” Laurel said. John just stayed quiet. He knew Laurel didn’t have quite as large a blind spot for the Queen matriarch as Oliver did, but she had grown up knowing the woman. It would likely take some time for her to adjust to the idea that Moira Queen wasn’t all she pretended to be.

Laurel wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned to Felicity. “Um, sorry. I’m Laurel.”

“I know. I saw you on the news a few weeks ago,” Felicity said. “I’m Felicity. I work at Queen Consolidated, which apparently includes doing odd jobs for vigilantes.” She considered Laurel for a moment. “So you really have known who he is. I was wondering.”

“Just for the last month,” Laurel said.

“Did you need something when you came down here, Laurel?” John asked.

“Oh. Yeah, I was hoping to have a look through Ollie’s list. But it can wait.” She returned her gaze to the man’s prone form.

It was another hour before Oliver stirred. His eyes opened and his hand clenched around Laurel’s. John watched her bite back a gasp.

“Ollie, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Laurel?” Oliver’s eyes opened and he looked around at the three of them. His grip eased, and then he was pushing himself up to sitting with one arm.

“Easy there. Try not to aggravate your shoulder,” John advised. “You’ve been out most of the night.”

“What happened?”

“Uh, well, I got you to your secret basement like you asked, John patched you up, I hacked the SCPD database to have them dispose of your DNA sample collected at the crime scene, and then Laurel showed up,” Felicity summarized in one breath.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Are you okay?”

She looked ready to laugh in disbelief. “I’m fine. You’re the one with a shoulder wound worse than mine was. How are you going to hide this from your family?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Did you want to see the list now, Laurel?” John asked.

Laurel nodded and stepped back from Oliver’s table. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Why do you need the list?” Oliver asked, frowning as she walked away.

“I wanted to make sure which landlords are on it and which aren’t.” She kept her eyes on the pages she was scanning as she continued, “I’m, um, probably moving to the Glades.”

“What?” Oliver slid off the table and winced as the impact reached his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Laurel, the Glades aren’t safe.”

“Yes, but they’re what I can afford. The only work I’ve found is at a florist’s shop, and if I can walk there instead of using public transit, that’ll save me money, too.”

“That the shop on Wells and 17th?” John asked. He’d noticed the help wanted sign in its window a few times as he’d passed by.

“Uh-huh.”

“Laurel, you’re not a florist,” Oliver said. “You’re a lawyer.”

“Well, there aren’t any law offices that want me. Wish I’d known that before I paid all that money to get the degree,” she remarked. John could see the effort she was going through to keep things light. He still didn’t know what had had her so upset when she arrived. “Okay, so none of the Nickel properties are worth looking into…”

Oliver shook his head. “Those offices will reconsider with time. Look, if you’re that tight for money, I’ll just raise Tommy’s salary so you have more time to look or you can work here with him—”

“Tommy broke up with me,” Laurel stated bluntly, at last looking up from the list. Her mouth pulled down in a terribly sad frown. 

Oliver froze. “He left you?”

“He packed his things and walked out tonight.”

“Because of everything that’s happening.” Oliver looked down for a long moment. “I’ll tell him the truth.”

John’s eyes widened, though before he could speak up Laurel was already replying with common sense.

“No, you can’t. He hates the Hood worse than ever, Ollie. There’s no telling how he’d react.” She heaved a sigh. “And it wouldn’t fix the rest of the problems we’ve had. I gave a relationship with Tommy a shot because I was tired of constantly having to turn him down. And I liked it, but — it’s over now. He can’t agree with my choices, and I can’t force him to.”

There was a heavy silence after those words. John noticed Felicity was busying herself by the table with the newer computers she’d set up, and he had a feeling the woman was desperate to be anywhere but here.

“I can still get you a job. Maybe not at the club, but Queen Consolidated. I’m sure we could find something for you,” Oliver offered.

“After the Hood attacked their CEO?”

John looked down. He could see where this was going, and it didn’t lead to any of Laurel’s problems having an easy fix. That was going to be partly on him since he’d been behind the push to send the Hood after Mrs. Queen, and all for no new information, as it was turning out.

“Oliver, if you want people to believe your cover for not being the Hood, for not even liking him, you can’t have anything to do with me.”

Oliver’s face took on a look of alarm as he started towards her. “Laurel—”

She set the list down and took a step back. “Your mother’s just been attacked by a man you’ve been claiming is insane. If I continue believing in the Hood — which I will, since I know you never meant to hurt your own mother — it would be impossible for you to keep being my friend. We can’t have contact, at least not in public.”

Words were failing Oliver. Combined with his shoulder wound, the man looked absolutely broken. He and the rest of them could only watch as Laurel made her way to the stairs.

“I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you,” she added to Felicity. For one moment, she stared at Oliver with eyes that practically ached. Then she looked down and climbed the staircase, the door closing with finality behind her.

“Well,” Felicity said eventually. “I think I’ll be heading home myself. I’ve got an early morning.” She reached for her coat and started for the door.

“Felicity,” Oliver said quietly. The woman paused. “Thank you for everything you did tonight. I understand it was a lot to bring you in on so quickly.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her keys. “Not that I’m not grateful you felt you could finally trust me with the truth about all this. But just, no offense, from where I’m standing, being associated with you seems to destroy a person’s life.”

Oliver stayed silent, not even attempting to argue against that assessment.

“So I’m not going to tell the police about you, and I will work with you to find Walter. But that’s it, and after that we’re done.”

Oliver gave a slow nod. “That’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight. I’m glad you didn’t die.” She, too, headed up the stairs and at of the foundry.

A very heavy, very uncomfortable silence fell once it was just the two of them. John knew it was up to him to try and bridge it. “Oliver, I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“What is this like, Diggle?” Oliver asked. “A disaster? Because that’s how it seems to me.”

“You couldn’t have known Tommy was going to call things quits. And that relationship needed to run its course without you anyway.”

“But it’s not without me, John.” Oliver’s look was absolutely guilt-stricken. “Tommy was jealous of the Hood. And with him gone, and her and Lance not speaking, and now this, she’s totally on her own. I did that.”

“A lot of that was Laurel’s choices, too,” he pointed out quietly.

“I forced her into them. I should have realized the danger I was putting her in. The risks. Now it’s too late. But I’m not taking them with anyone else.” Oliver pulled on a sweatshirt, then took two steps towards John, getting right into his space.

“My mother — _any_ of my loved ones, are off limits. For good this time.”

He’d known it was coming, and there was little he could say without them coming to blows over it. And without any more information about this Undertaking, he had no real leverage.

Oliver turned and stormed from the base. John sighed, then got to work finishing cleaning up.

To think things had somehow only gotten worse even after Oliver had been shot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I was on a brief weekend trip to the woods this weekend, which is why this chapter is coming a little late. But hopefully better late than never. I'm excited for this one. We'll see a number of OCs introduced who will have roles of various size to help build out the new life Laurel is stepping into starting with this chapter. I'm hoping people like them, but I also promise plenty of time with familiar faces as well. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

She’d boxed up everything that would be going with her. In the end, it wasn’t really that much. Joanna had offered to hold on to her law books — “For the near future,” her friend had declared, convinced this was only going to be a short hiatus for Laurel from the practice. The bulk of her things were clothes, old photos and albums, and Sara’s stuff. She hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even with the smaller space she’d have now.

It took a few trips to get everything downstairs, but she wasn’t worried about leaving her stuff. Hank, her first ever client, was sitting with it outside in her car.

He’d sought her services all those years ago for his son when he’d been falsely accused of a mugging. Now that same son was in need of a cheap car to get to and from college, and Laurel had been more than happy to have someone to take it off her hands. The insurance was just going to be too much, not to mention her new home didn’t have its own driveway or garage.

She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“That everything?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Time to go. Thanks for giving me a lift over.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. This all is a real shame.”

Laurel nodded, leaning back against the headrest as she watched her old building glide away past the window. No turning back now.

They left downtown and entered the Glades. They were streets she was somewhat familiar with, at least the ones she took to and from work, but it seemed different now knowing this was to be her neighborhood. She spotted the corner store she’d researched online for where she would be getting her groceries.

As they turned onto her new street, dodging around a trash can that had fallen over into the road, she sat up. There was a whole group of people standing around by the front walk of the little townhouse she was to call her own. Hank honked the horn, and it was at that point she realized she recognized most of them.

“There she is. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Mrs. Ross called out as she got out of the car.

“What is all this?”

“I might have mentioned I was helping you move to a few people,” Hank admitted sheepishly. He had already taken one of the bigger boxes from the car, so Laurel headed up the walk to unlock her front door. She remained on the stoop as Hank went in, looking around at the people who had turned out.

One stood out in particular.

“Raisa?”

The Queen’s cook and housekeeper smiled at her. “I heard Mr. Oliver and Miss Thea discussing your move. You were always such a sweet girl with a good heart, and now we’ve become something of neighbors.”

“I didn’t know you lived in the Glades.” She would have thought the Queens paid her more than that.

“I do. My sister’s family, my son and I. We all share. A few streets away from here.” She waved a hand vaguely in one direction. Then she returned it to holding a tupperware bowl. “Now, I found time to bake some cookies. Your favorite, if I recall.”

Laurel thought she could feel her stomach growl at just the mention. “I’m sure they are. Thank you so much, Raisa.”

The woman patted her arm, and then headed in after Hank.

She wasn’t alone in bringing food. Mrs. Ross was carrying a large casserole dish covered with tinfoil. “You can serve this up over a week, maybe two. Did the job work out?”

“I talked to her over the phone, and she asked me to come in tomorrow to start.”

“Good, that’s good. But listen, don’t stand on ceremony with her. She’s just Pam.”

Laurel took note of that with a nod, and Mrs. Ross continued into the house.

A couple both about five years her senior approached her next. The woman reached her hand out first; she had brown skin and long dark hair in a sleek pontytail. “Hi, I’m Anita. This is my husband, Jerome. We’re right next door from you.”

Laurel shook both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for moving in. There’s been kids smoking on the stoop and in the back. Makes the whole street stink,” Anita said. Her husband, a Black man, hummed in agreement. “Now they’ll just have to find somewhere else.”

“Well, glad I could help then,” she replied with a wry grin.

Anita turned her head to the side and said, “ _Bebê_ , you wanna grab a couple boxes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started, but Jerome had already walked towards the car.

“Oh, don’t worry. He carries heavier stuff than that at the docks,” Anita told her. “Jerome’s got work unloading the cargo ships that come by there.”

“This is like a feather,” he agreed as he returned with one box under each arm. Laurel had to admit he didn’t look to be breaking a sweat. He was probably taller than both Oliver and John, and maybe even her father. His hair was cropped short, though not as close as John’s military regulation.

Emily Nocenti was behind them in the makeshift line that had formed. “Laurel, I couldn’t believe it when I heard this was happening. If it weren’t for you and Joanna at CNRI — well, they’re losing a good person.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’m glad I was able to close your case first.” There were other cases she had been looking at before everything had gone wrong. Cases she would never be allowed to touch, whether or not they would have been winnable. It hurt.

Last of the group, Joanna emerged with a big smile. “I had to come and see the place, didn’t I?”

Laurel gladly accepted her friend’s hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Joanna took out an envelope and passed it to her. “This is from Peter Declan. He’s at a recital for his daughter and couldn’t make it, but they both wanted you to have it. Something to help you out.”

She opened it to find a thank you card with two fifties folded up inside. Laurel bit her lip as her eyes stung for a moment. Just thinking about all that time the man had spent wrongly imprisoned, only to still be so kind. “You’ll tell him thanks?”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

Together, the two friends entered the house. It was much smaller than her old apartment, and still one level. The sitting room bled into the kitchen with only a counter separating them. A cramped hallway led back to a bathroom with a standup shower and further back was the single bedroom with a tiny closet. Sara’s things would be going up on the high shelf in there just as they had done in her old place.

Everyone had congregated in the main room. Raisa and Mrs. Ross were manning the kitchen while Jerome unpacked her appliances. The only good thing about the brevity of her and Tommy cohabiting a space was that practically everything in it had been hers; it cut down on things she’d needed to buy.

“Think these are clothes,” Hank said as he opened one box on a squat coffee table.

“Joanna and I can take that. Thanks, Hank.”

She picked up the box and led Joanna back through to the bedroom.

“Well,” her friend began. “It could be worse.” She sat on the bed and tested its bounce. Laurel didn’t miss her smile dropping for a moment. “So how safe is this neighborhood, Laurel? I mean really?”

“It’s not the worst,” she hedged. “It was the best I could find in terms of the landlord. There’s some tenement housing where they don’t turn the heating on until the dead of winter, did you know that?”

Joanna shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but no. Look, Laurel, are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me and my mom for a while?”

“I couldn’t. Really, it’d be too generous, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep up with my car payments. I’d have no way to get to work.” She finished hanging a few sweaters and turned to take Joanna’s hands. “It’s going to be okay, Jo, I promise.”

Someone clearing their throat caused her to turn and see Anita standing in the doorway. “I found your toiletries. You just want those in the bathroom?”

“Yes, thank you. On the sink is fine. I’ll sort through them all later.” Laurel moved away from Joanna and took out her gray pea coat to hang up next.

“Oh, you sweet thing, that is a beautiful coat.”

“Thank you,” Laurel replied.

“You’re gonna have to get rid of it.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anita gave her a rueful grin. “People spot you walking around in something this nice, they’re gonna think you have money. And some of them are gonna want that money.”

Laurel exchanged a nervous look with Joanna. “Um, okay. Do you think your mom would want this?”

“I’ll ask her.” Joanna stood and folded the coat over her arm. Laurel frowned as she looked over her things. She’d thought she had already sold most of her best stuff, but did she give off the image of someone it would be worthwhile to mug? Was that all that some people would see?

Anita set aside the toiletry case and approached her. “I’m not saying you can’t have anything a little nice. But you want to be careful. Those kind of folks can pick out people who don’t belong, don’t know better.”

Laurel nodded. “I understand.”

“If you need some different things, there’s a thrift store four blocks east of here. You can get some nice stuff second hand, too.”

“Laurel, I’ll finish hanging up the clothes. You go sort out the other boxes,” Joanna said. Her friend could clearly see she needed something else to distract herself with, at least for a few moments.

“Yeah, okay.”

When she entered the main room, Emily Nocenti was pulling the photo albums and framed photographs out of one box and setting them aside. She held up one as Laurel approached.

“Is this you and your dad?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, that’s my sister, Sara.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Emily rushed to say, and Laurel remembered with some embarrassment that she had told the other woman the whole history that day they’d bumped into Oliver at the courthouse.

“It’s fine.” She put a smile on to reassure the other woman, then took the photograph and placed it on the narrow bookshelf standing against one wall. “I don’t even know why he bought her that canary. It never shut up, drove us all nuts.” Sara had grown bored with it after a week or so, too, leaving her to either have to remind her sister or simply feed the loud thing herself.

Laurel then stopped by the kitchen. “Is there a pizza place or something near here? I don’t want to send you all home without eating.”

“There’s Joe’s on Fifth and Powell. They’ve got a nice deal on Saturdays,” Jerome told her.

Laurel looked them up and ordered, and soon enough most of her boxes were empty and everyone had regathered in the main room to eat. Anita had had to run next door to grab paper plates, which Laurel wished she’d thought to buy beforehand. She hadn’t really been expecting company so soon, though.

“And there really isn’t some kind of appeal process?” Emily was asking her. “I know the Hood isn’t exactly innocent, but without him Sommers would be walking free. A lot of people think he does good work.”

“Well, he could be doing more,” Mrs. Ross said. Laurel looked over in surprise. The other woman raised both hands. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot still wrong with this town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to feel safe walking around at night. Usually I just sit around after work waiting for Jerome to be done with his shift and come get me,” Anita agreed. “Lots of guys out there think they can use force to get their way, too.”

“Well, that’s not like anything the Hood’s doing,” Laurel began.

“No, but it’s funny,” Jerome said. “He stopped those bank robbers a few months back. How come he doesn’t do more of that?”

“It would be so nice if he would do something about the gangs that attack the bus routes,” Raisa agreed. “I’m always so afraid to go home. Any day now, they’ll pick the one I’m on, and I’ll lose my wages.”

“There’s gangs hitting the buses?” Joanna asked. Judging by the look on her face, this was the first she was hearing of it, too.

“Well, maybe the Hood just doesn’t know about all of that.”

“What if he did?” Hank asked. He’d been mostly quiet till now, but he was staring directly at Laurel. “Maybe if you told him?”

The others were all watching her expectantly, too. Much as she didn’t want to disappoint them, Laurel knew protecting Oliver’s identity was still important, even among friends.

“It- it doesn’t really work like that. I don’t have the phone to contact him anymore.”

There were nods and glum looks. Mrs. Ross stood and started gathering up empty plates. She patted Laurel’s hand. “Best for you to keep your head down. That’s what we all do to survive.”

The party atmosphere had waned, and slowly everyone started making their way to the door. Laurel thanked them each as they left, then stood in her doorway and watched as Hank drove away with what was no longer her car. The lights were on at Anita and Jerome’s, but other than that the street was quiet.

Laurel shut and locked the door, then put away a few more little things before retiring to her new bedroom. It was hard for her to get to sleep; whether that was due to a first night in a new environment or her thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

What the others had said about the Glades and the Hood, it weighed on her. There was so much more work to do to even come close to saving this city. Laurel just wasn’t sure how she was going to take it on.

\---

Pam rose early as she always did and went about her morning routine. Getting ready, watering the plants that needed it, and feeding her cat. She made sure to give him a nice big bowl, otherwise he tended to try going after the basil.

With everything upstairs settled, it was time to head down and open Green Glades for another morning.

She checked the register and went up and down the rows, inspecting her wares. Some of the perennials weren’t looking as good as they had a week ago. She’d have to consider marking them down. There was some other matter of business she needed to tend to today, though it was escaping her what that was specifically. With a shrug, she decided it would dawn on her at the right time.

Pam returned to her counter and had only eased back into her stool for a few minutes before there was a knock at the front door. She looked up. “Now who could that be?”

It wasn’t opening time yet. But as she shuffled to the door, she could make out the outline of a young woman with brown hair and a striped sweater. Ah! Her brand new assistant then. She’d known she was forgetting something.

Pam undid the lock. “Laurel?” Such a pretty name for the girl who was herself rather pretty.

Her new assistant nodded with a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Pam.”

“You as well. I’m glad you got here early. We’ll have some time to go over the store.”

She led Laurel on a walking tour up and down aisles, pointing out the organization of the flowers and other plants. “I did them by difficulty. Makes it easier for the beginners.”

“Difficulty?”

“In how to tend them, grow them. Some plants require a skillful touch compared to others. They’re high maintenance. You’ll see in time. What sort of plants have you owned?”

“Um, my mom had a basket...thing, when I was growing up,” Laurel said. Pam waited, but that was apparently to be it.

“Well, you’ll be able to relate well to the beginners, then. Tell you what, today I’ll have you on the register. She’s an old thing, but you learn the right way soon enough. Oh, and I’ve got some mark down stickers that need putting on a few of the perennials.”

“I can do that,” Laurel volunteered with spirit, clearly glad to have something she felt confident enough in doing. Pam fished out the guide she had for customers, dog-eared and stained with mulch in places, setting Laurel to work.

They had their first customers before she’d finished, and Pam was kept busy by the register. It was mostly folks coming in early for seeds and bulbs, a couple of indoor plants here and there. Pam did some bouquets, of course — she knew where the money was — but she was always so happy to sell something living instead.

“Pam? Sorry, where’s the sink?”

Pam turned to find her assistant holding the sticker tape in one hand and her other, dirt-covered hand far away from her clothes. There were already a couple of dark stains on the front of her sweater.

“Oh! I should have got you an apron. I’m sorry, dear.” She ushered Laurel into the back where she found her an old smock to wear in place of the sweater, along with her own apron.

Laurel came up to learn the register, which left Pam a little freer to chat with her neighbors and regulars, like Annie who came in hefting two canvas bags of groceries already. She must have gotten up early to have made the two mile trek to the supermarket and back.

“I’m thinking of trying a little herb garden this year in my window box,” Annie told her. “Wanted to talk to you first about what I might be needing.”

“Absolutely. Now what have you been growing in the window box before this?”

“Just some marigolds. Mom’s favorite, you know. But who’s this?” Annie asked, turning to look at Laurel.

“Hi, I’m Laurel. It’s nice to meet you. This is my first day.”

“Oh, the new assistant!”

“Yes, this is my florist-in-training,” Pam remarked. “She’s a bit green, but she’ll have a green thumb before it’s said and done.”

Laurel looked down at the register keys, a bit of a blush to her cheeks.

“Now, about that window box,” Pam decided to continue to get the attention off the young woman. 

She did introduce Laurel to a few more of the usual crowd over the course of the day, and just a couple hours after dark, it was time to close up. In another couple months, it would still be light out come closing time.

They hung up their aprons, and Pam assured her assistant she could bring the smock back tomorrow so she wouldn’t be walking home in a dirty sweater. “Try to find something old you don’t mind getting a little messy for next time.”

“Right.” Laurel turned to walk past the counter and towards the door.

“Wait a minute!” Pam called. Her assistant stopped and watched as she shuffled into the back again, this time coming out with a small, potted African violet.

“Now, this is for you. Call it a hiring bonus.”

Laurel looked at the plant with clear surprise and moved to hand it back over.

“I can’t take it for free.”

“Of course you can. I bring home the troubled ones all the time. Any florist should have a few of their own.”

“I don’t know, Pam. I was never really a plant person. What if it dies?”

The girl was nervous, eager to please. If Pam had to guess, life hadn’t treated her well even before her ouster from CNRI. She only knew the bare basics from what Liza Ross had told her neighbor, and she wasn’t inclined to dig for the details. Sometimes it was best to let those things emerge on their own.

“You take that home. Nurture it. Learn to care for it.”

Laurel wilted, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, dear.”

She sent the young woman home and finished locking up the place. Pam wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it back up on the hook on the wall, then climbed the stairs at a slow pace. Her feet and knees hurt far less now that she wasn’t doing so much around the shop, but they still weren’t what they used to be when she’d been a younger woman.

Ah well. Young or old, they all had their struggles.

\---

She had a full week under her belt at the shop, and suffice to say Laurel was exhausted. Her whole day was spent on her feet, as Pam only had the one stool and she wasn’t about to deprive the older woman of it. It wouldn’t look great if she was constantly sitting around, either. She’d need to trade her plain flats for some sneakers. Her arches were killing her.

It was her first day off and she’d mostly spent it on the couch, too tired to even think about going out. She’d clicked around on her computer reading this or that article. One of Starling’s elite, Ken Williams, was under scrutiny after revealing the pyramid scheme he’d been a part of. The articles didn’t say, but Laurel suspected the Hood’s involvement in making the man change his ways.

At least Ollie was still getting real work done out there.

It had gotten dark without her notice. Laurel yawned and stretched. Time for an early bed. She pushed up off the couch and crossed the room.

The glass in her front window shattered, and Laurel dropped and rolled away from a rectangular object that landed on her floor. When nothing happened, she peeked out from the protective ball she’d curled into.

It was a brick. She heard some jeering laughter outside, but when she went to the window the culprits were already running off into the night. Just some lousy troublemakers. They probably hadn’t even had a purpose to picking her house. Or they were the teens upset she’d taken away their smoking spot.

Laurel’s forehead dropped to rest against the wall as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Was she getting paranoid? There wasn’t anything special about her anymore, so why would people be coming to attack her?

It occurred to her that standing around in her socks while there was broken glass on the floor wasn’t the best idea. She picked her way over carefully and stepped into her shoes, then went to fetch her broom and dustpan. The floor was easy enough to start with, but she was going to have to remove all the couch cushions and make sure nothing was hiding underneath.

A knock at her door interrupted her, causing her to tense back up as she listened.

“Laurel? It’s Jerome from next door.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she went to the door. “Hi.”

“Anita sent me to check on you. Thought we heard something crash over here.”

“Yeah, I think it was just some kids. They threw a brick through my window. I’m fine.”

“Kids.” He shook his head. “You need any help cleaning the glass up?”

She waved a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Well, how about I bring a tarp over to cover the window up till the landlord gets around to replacing it. We should have one lying around.”

The practical side of her won out when she considered that they still hadn’t reached spring. “If it’s not any trouble, I’d really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

Laurel took off the couch cushions and finished sweeping while she waited, then took one end of the tarp to help Jerome tape it up. Hopefully the paint wouldn’t peel later.

Just as they were securing it on all four sides, another crash sounded.

They both ducked back behind the cover of the walls, but after several beats of silence, Jerome poked his head out and glanced around. “Can’t see anything.”

Laurel checked as well, looking each way up the street, then down at the ground.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Laurel?” Jerome was at her side in two steps.

“No, it’s nothing. Just… my violet.” She went out the door and picked her way over a couple shards of glass to where the shattered pot and a heap of dirt sat, her sad little flower barely sticking up out of it. She’d forgotten it was still sitting on the windowsill, and the tarp must have knocked it over. Laurel scooped it up and carried it back inside.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

She plastered a smile to her face. “It was an accident. Really, Jerome, it’s fine.”

“You got another pot we could put it in?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. Um, I’ll try a tupperware and see if Pam can help me with it tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright here tonight?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

Her neighbor left and Laurel’s smile instantly fell. She looked at the wilted flower sitting in her hands. What was even the point?

Nevertheless, she found a tupperware and packed the dirt in around the plant’s roots. She sprinkled a little water over it and washed her hands, then sat down heavily at her table.

“Are you okay?”

She gasped but almost instantly calmed; Oliver stood near the back of the room with his hood pushed back. He must have entered through the kitchen door, even if she’d been sure it was locked.

“I’m fine. It was just some kids.” She waved a hand towards the tarp. “My neighbor helped me fix it.”

Oliver frowned and stepped closer. “You’re crying.”

Laurel rubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks, pointless when he’d already seen them. “It’s not because — I’m okay. Just- my plant. It got knocked over.”

Oliver was eyeing her warily, like he was afraid the slightest word might set her off crying. “Your plant.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not hysterical. It’s just my boss sent it home with me so I could learn more about caring for flowers, so I know she’ll be disappointed if I’ve already killed it.” To her horror, a lump started to rise in her throat as she spoke, making the next words difficult. “And it’s one of the only things I had to make the place feel like a home, so yes, I am mourning it.”

“Laurel, I know how you think your clients would feel if you lied, but wouldn’t they rather you be there to help them?” Frustration was practically leaking from his tone.

“I can’t go back, Ollie. Don’t you see that’s how this starts? Corruption has this city in a chokehold, and no one is immune. If I lie to save my job, what’s to stop me from withholding a piece of evidence that makes my cases harder to win? Or stealing my dad’s files? Where does it end?”

“I’m worried about it ending out here for you,” he replied. “The Glades aren’t safe. That brick could have been an accident, or it could have been something deliberate.”

“Because billionaires hire teenagers to threaten ex-lawyers?” She almost laughed. “Oliver, I don’t have enemies. Those people in the top offices of corporations or the penthouse apartments, I guarantee they’ve forgotten about me already. I’m nobody.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She couldn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough to reply to that. Instead she asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was on my way to another person on the List.”

“Really? And you just happened to pass by the very minute someone threw a brick at my window?” She looked him in the eye. “You shouldn’t be watching over me. There are plenty of other people in this city who need your help more.”

“But this is the only way I’m allowed to help you.” His expression was pained. He hadn’t liked agreeing to keep his distance as Oliver Queen, but she hadn’t realized how much it might have hurt him.

Laurel got up from her chair and approached him. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, but they do. And you have to trust me that I’ll ask for help when I need it.”

Oliver closed his eyes but nodded once. “I guess I can’t persuade you to use one of the Manor’s rooms until your window is replaced.”

“No, you can’t. You wouldn’t, not if you were really the person you’re trying to make everyone believe you are. I’ll be fine, Oliver.”

He stiffened for a moment and placed his hand to his ear where the comm to Diggle rested.

“You should get that.” Laurel turned back to her sitting room, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on the couch. When she looked up, he was gone again.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, flicking the lights off as she retreated to her bedroom. With all the chaos on top of her exhaustion from work, Laurel readily fell asleep.

It was with only minor surprise that she woke the next morning to a text from Oliver himself.

_The window people should be there by ten. If they’re not, let me know_

That was so typical of him. She sent off a quick reply.

_Why, so you can visit my landlord?_

Laurel looked the message over again. It sounded harsh when she hadn’t meant to be. She knew he was just trying to help in whatever way he could.

_I’m sure it will be fine. But thank you_

_I do miss you,_ she very nearly sent. But Laurel held herself back from hitting that button, erasing the words instead. There was little point to making him feel worse. Even if it was true.

\---

Oliver sighed as he read Laurel’s messages. He wished he could do more than guarantee she had all her windows. But his involvement in her life had to be kept mostly a secret these days.

If he’d known his outspoken dislike for his vigilante alter ego would put this kind of restriction on his friendship with Laurel, he would have been more careful about what he said.

Put simply, he was stuck. If he tried to intervene as the Hood — visit CNRI’s benefactors, make them reconsider their hardline stance — Laurel could end up in far worse trouble, this time with the law. Would Lance even hesitate to arrest her? He’d used her as bait once.

About the only assistance he could offer was physical protection, and Laurel didn’t even want that. He knew she had a point about not wasting his nights, a point Diggle would no doubt agree with.

But it was hard to see what the point of all of this _was._ He would be at this mission forever if he went name by name on the list. He was no closer to figuring out what this Undertaking was or if that had been what his father wanted him to stop all those years ago. His mother had been rattled by his visit to her as the Hood, Tommy was jealous of an imaginary enemy, and Laurel had had to give up everything.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the benefit that came to him from her decision. To operate out of the Glades as he did, there was a certain amount of discretion he needed to rely on the residents to have. Laurel vouching for him gave him some legitimacy, some currency with those people he would have otherwise needed to work much harder to earn. He’d already had to change some of his routes coming to and from the base thanks to tips that were phoned in when Laurel had been reported missing.

Even her vote of confidence didn’t sway some people, though. Felicity had threatened to quit her tentative working relationship with the Hood the other night over his decision to target Ken Williams because of his status as a parent. Oliver had wanted to point out all the parents and children Williams’ pyramid scheme was stealing from, but John had talked him around to a more conciliatory approach. As a result, he was now committed to tracking down an art thief who had nothing to do with his father’s mission. Everything was just too much.

He decided to spend a little bit of time with Tommy in the club before their meeting with Felicity at Big Belly Burger.

“Finished moving all my stuff into the new place,” Tommy was telling him, his voice cheerful enough that Oliver knew there was something forced about it. “Still downtown, but it’s a bit smaller.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in,” he said.

“Yeah. Just needs a few touches to start feeling homey. Maybe a girl or two.”

Oliver scrutinized his friend. “You really want to start dating again so soon?”

Tommy shook his head with a grin like he’d said something funny. “Not dating.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, Ollie, I tried it out, right? Turns out relationships are as bad as I always thought they’d be. Some of us just aren’t made for it,” he said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. It was clear he was counting the both of them as part of this dubious ‘some’, which stung even as Oliver knew he probably deserved to be there.

Digg cleared his throat, and when Oliver looked over he saw why. Laurel was hovering near the back wall, clearly not wanting to approach while Tommy was with him.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a meeting to get to later, so I’m gonna go over the inventory real quick.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder in return and headed down to the base.

He followed after John who had already led Laurel downstairs. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the window people took care of it. Thanks again.”

“Okay.” Oliver stopped himself from asking why she had chosen to come here, then. Scaring her off was the last thing he wanted.

“I did some thinking at work today about our situation. How we can’t really be there for each other the way we might want to.”

That was certainly putting things lightly, but he couldn’t deny a warm feeling in his chest at the knowledge it had been bothering her, too.

“So I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?”

“I had the thought that since you seem to like lists, maybe I should make you one.” She took out a piece of paper that had clearly been ripped out of one of her old legal pads. Laurel held it out to him with a little flourish that almost reminded him of the girl who’d once presented him with her photo. The mix of happy and sad that memory represented had to be pushed down before he could refocus.

He scanned it over, catching items like _bus route gangs_ and _price gouging on medications._ Oliver looked up.

“Laurel, what is this?”

“We both want this city to be better than it is, and since I’ve started living in the Glades I’ve learned so much more about what people are up against, just in their day to day lives,” she explained. “I can’t do anything in the courtroom, but I can pass along what I’ve found out to someone who can do something. And that way, you’re helping me like you want.”

He could get where she was coming from, but as he stared down at the list all he could see was another set of distractions from his father’s mission. One that in itself already felt an impossible task.

“Laurel, I want to help you be safe.”

“And this would help do that.”

“But how much? Do you have any idea how many gangs or dealers are out there? Small crime is never going to be completely stopped, and it’s only a symptom of the larger problems my father was dealing with.”

Her arms crossed. “So the people who are victims of small crime should just suffer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Oliver? Whenever you talk about being the Hood, it always comes down to your father or the men he wanted you to go after. Is this your mission or his hit list?”

He took a step forward. “Hey—”

“What about the people you’re trying to help? Why not listen to what they want?”

“Because I’m not their hero!” He snapped. “Okay? I’m not some guardian angel. I’m a killer, Laurel. Just like my father was.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. He could feel Diggle’s silent gaze on him, too.

“There were three of us who made it to the life raft. Me, my father, and one of the crew. A few days after the boat sank, we were running low on supplies. My father took a gun, shot the crewman and himself, so that I could survive,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “I _have_ to complete this mission, Laurel. Or else it would have been for nothing. I’ve already let too many distractions get in my way.”

Every minute he spent on this Dodger, or got involved in a petty theft, was time he should have expended on the list and its true meaning.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll let you get on with it.” Oliver looked away as she turned and made for the exit.

“Here,” he heard Digg’s low murmur, and it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man took the paper. Wasn’t he always trying to get Oliver to do this or that thing?

But when he looked at the other man, Diggle had tucked Laurel’s list away somewhere out of sight. Oliver drew in a breath and released it slowly as he heard the door to the steps shut behind her. Gone again. How did he keep doing this?

And after all that, he still had to take on this art thief just to keep their tech support happy.

“Let’s get this over with.”

\---

Ted was cooling off with some water when the door opened to admit someone who definitely wasn’t one of his regulars. Didn’t even look like she could be a regular.

“Can I help you?”

She spotted him after he called out to her and walked over. “Yes. I wanted to see what kind of classes you teach and if I could take one.”

Ted didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have all that zumba and spin stuff that’s all the rage with you younger folks.”

Her returning smile was tight and unamused. “Well, good thing I’m not interested in that.”

He shrugged and went over to grab one of his adverts. “You can have a look at that, then.”

He watched her eyes scan over the pages, and as he studied her he couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about her. Like he’d seen her face before.

“Can a beginnner try boxing, or are your lessons just for people who already know it?”

“I take anybody that can prove they’re committed to learning it. What has you interested?”

She looked up, and it suddenly clicked why he thought she belonged more on TV than in a boxing ring — he had seen her on TV.

“I’ve had self defense training, and now I’m looking for something a little more.”

“Is that because of your Hood friend?” He turned away. “Forget it, I’m not getting involved in the vigilante’s problems.”

“I’m more than somebody’s problem.”

He stopped and looked back. There was something in her eyes — not the desperate, lost look of some of his usuals who needed release from the pain life had dealt them, but a steely determination that belied her painted lips and comfy sweater all the same.

“That’s fair. Alright then, what’s your story?”

She eyed him for a moment. “I lost my job last month, so I’m living in the Glades now. There’s been some rough nights.”

“There always are. Why’d it bring you here?”

“Because I want to be able to handle them on my own.”

That was interesting. “And not the vigilante?”

She shook her head. “He does what he does for the city, not for me.”

She didn’t look to be lying. And the truth was, Ted would be an idiot to gain a reputation for turning down clients. “Alright, I’ll start you on a trial basis, see if you like it. Then we’ll talk regular lessons.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

When she turned to leave, it occurred to Ted they hadn’t sorted out one small matter. “Hold up! I didn’t get your name.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you recognized me.”

“Your face. Didn’t remember your name. You get knocked on the head sometimes in the ring,” he added. _And on the streets,_ an old voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The woman smirked. “Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel. I’ll see you on Tuesday for your lesson.”

“See you, Ted.”

She walked out with her hands resting in her pockets. There was a swagger to her beneath that girl-next-door veneer, a toughness that was coming to the surface the more life wore away at her. Ted felt himself grin.

He could work with this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I was really glad people liked the beginning of Laurel's new life in the Glades that started last chapter. We'll see a little more about that in this, and also check in with a few characters as their alternate journeys start to take shape. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Malcolm had never been interested in idle gossip, and even less so now that the Undertaking was nearly within sight. Only a few more months before Unidac was set to complete the earthquake machines. Then it would simply be a matter of setting them up beneath the Glades, to be triggered at his whim.

Even with his mind preoccupied, he’d hardly missed the hostage crisis involving his son’s girlfriend and the Hood last month. It had all been resolved before he had decided whether or not to involve himself, which was just as well. Miss Lance was a good person, driven by all the same ideals and passions Rebecca had had when she’d been alive. It would have been a shame to lose her so senselessly just as Rebecca had been lost.

It took far longer for the other rumors surrounding Laurel Lance to reach his ears. That she had been forced out of CNRI, that she and Tommy had separated. Considering her previous apartment had been Tommy’s last known address until recently, he thought it was high time he checked in on his son again.

Malcolm therefore found himself in the position of visiting the Verdant in the Glades. He never came out to this neighborhood if he could avoid it. Too many bad memories.

Tommy was standing behind the bar, his head buried in a binder with what looked like the finances. Malcolm felt the odd stirring of pride in his gut to see his son at work on something for once, and he hesitated to interrupt. But eventually, Tommy sensed the presence of another person — far too slow, really, he would have easily been dead if Malcolm had had those intentions — and looked up.

“Dad?”

“Hello, Tommy. I was wondering if you had some time tomorrow. I’d like to try catching up again, just the two of us. I know our last dinner didn’t exactly end well.”

Without the buffer of Laurel Lance between them, things could go that way just as easily. Then again, perhaps it was time they had a talk man to man.

Tommy hesitated. “What’s the catch?”

Malcolm held up both hands. “I promise, there’s no ulterior motive. I just heard you were going through a rough time. I thought maybe I could listen.”

His son considered him for a long moment. “Okay. I can get tomorrow evening.”

Malcolm smiled, and it was at least close to reaching his eyes. “Wonderful.”

The next night found the two of them sitting down to dinner. He’d picked somewhere with what would be considered American-style cuisine, if gourmet. Tommy had never had much tolerance for spices. He ordered a bottle of red for the table and thanks to a lack of small talk to begin with, they each had decided on their food fairly quickly as well.

“How’s, uh, the company?” His son asked eventually.

“Doing well as ever. I’m sorry your relationship ended.”

“Okay, cutting to the chase. Should’ve expected that.” Tommy set his wine glass down and shrugged. “We wanted different things, I guess. Or saw things differently. I don’t know.”

“And Laurel has left CNRI?”

“She had to. Said it was better for her clients, but I don’t see how. If a hooded killer is so important to them, I’m not sure why I’d bother.”

Malcolm paused, in thought and to allow the waitress to set their respective meals down. 

Tommy was bitter, of course, that he had been deemed less important to the lawyer than her work. It didn’t necessarily speak of any deep-rooted conviction. But there was the seed of an idea in there, a thought that had occurred to Malcolm himself in the years after Rebecca’s death.

“Sometimes,” he began carefully, “people look to outlandish solutions rather than solving their own problems. They believe the Hood is here to save them, but in reality, they’re no better off than they were before he started.”

Tommy was watching him, his head bobbing in an unconscious nod.

“In fact, they might even be worse off. There’s nearly been a gang war over the business with his temporary partner the Huntress.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Laurel mentioned that guy Vanch she had to shoot only got out of prison because of all that,” Tommy was eager to agree.

“I’m not surprised. The truth is, Tommy, one of the reasons I chose to close your mother’s clinic was because I was worried for the safety of the employees.”

This was a half-truth. He was reasonably sure the clinic would have been perfectly safe up until the Undertaking, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice hard-working doctors and nurses to it needlessly.

Tommy’s entire posture changed, less closed off. His expression was far more considering as well. “I hadn’t thought of that. You know, I’m hiring at the club now, and do you think — wow, look at me asking you for advice.”

Malcolm felt something in him warm. Perhaps it was his heart. “I’d be happy to give it.”

Tommy pushed a bite of steak around on his plate. “Well, do you think I should hire additional security?”

“It never hurts. Moira certainly did the right thing hiring that bodyguard for Oliver.”

“Well, she really cares about her kids,” Tommy said, only a little less pointed than usual.

Malcolm set down his knife and fork. This was the real test, and one he had brought on himself. “She does. I’ve always admired that in her, the same as I admired it in Robert. In fact, I’m forever in their debt for everything they did in raising you.”

Tommy was staring at him now, his food forgotten, hanging onto his every word. Malcolm suspected he’d been waiting to hear this for years. Perhaps decades.

“I haven’t been the best father to you, Tommy. Part of that, when you were older, was frustration on my part. I wanted you to take things more seriously. To see the mature young man in front of me now makes me happier than I have been in a long time.”

“Yeah.” Tommy didn’t quite manage a smile. “I guess you cutting me off really was for the best, huh?”

Malcolm glanced down. “You’ve succeeded in spite of my lack of support, Tommy, not because of it. And I couldn’t be prouder.”

He could tell Tommy didn’t know what to say. Neither of them were good at expressing themselves this way; where he covered it with either cordial restraint or coldness, Tommy deflected with humor. But his son didn’t do so now.

“Well, thank you. I’m still trying to be better than I was, in spite of everything.”

“Of course.” Heartbreak was doing Tommy good, if anything. It always did; it forced a person to decide what was truly worth fighting for.

Malcolm requested the check and was soon standing and buttoning his coat. “My office door is always open to you, Tommy.”

“Okay. Hey, and this was… good. I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”

Malcolm smiled. “I feel the same.”

He left the restaurant in good spirits. Tommy had exceeded the expectations he’d settled on for him this past year. In time, he could well be a worthy successor. And after all, that was the goal.

Malcolm was not Ra’s al Ghul. He did not have a steady supply of the waters of Lazarus to keep his life going indefinitely. The world he was attempting to build would one day be inherited. Tommy, Oliver, Thea, Amanda — those children and more were the driving force behind everything he, Moira, Frank, and the other members of Tempest did. This plan twenty years in the making was for their benefit as well as the city’s, not that they knew it yet.

For that reason alone, it was time to bring Tommy back into the fold. He wanted to be close to his son upon the launch of the Undertaking. He wanted Tommy to know the loss of his mother would never be in vain. Her ideas of improvement in the Glades would soon be brought to fruition the only way Malcolm knew how: liquidation.

\---

Thea hadn’t thought community service could get any worse. Sure, she’d complained and dragged her feet the whole way there the first couple of days, but she’d gotten used to the routine easily enough. And she’d honestly liked having the time to spend with Laurel, sort of woman-to-woman in a way she’d never really been with her mom.

Of course, then Laurel had gotten fired. That’s when things really took a turn for the worse.

Thea drafted yet another email declining Anastasia’s services on a civil suit against Dagget Industries, the phrases and language used in these sorts of things nearly second nature to her now. The couple who wished to bring the suit was claiming that Dagget’s products had damaged their daughter’s skin and wanted money to cover her medical bills. It seemed open and shut to her, yet Anastasia had forwarded it along to her with the instruction to notify the family that CNRI would not be representing them.

In fact, Thea had three more of these kind of emails to draft before the end of the day. One against Stagg Industries and two against Nickels, a landlord in the Glades.

Seriously, they couldn’t even win a lawsuit against a guy who worked out of the Glades? Enough was enough.

Thea stood and made her way over to her new sponsor’s desk, clearing her throat to get the other woman’s attention since she was busy scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, you finish those emails?” Anastasia asked her in a bored tone.

“Not quite. I was wondering if you wanted me to write any approval emails today or if we’re just going to continue doing nothing like the rest of this week.”

“Laurel really got to you before she was sent packing, huh?”

Thea bristled at her sponsor’s amused tone. “So what if she did?”

The other woman set aside her phone and leaned forward. “Let me offer you some free legal advice, kid. Pick your battles.”

“Okay,” Thea said slowly.

Anastasia sighed. “Here’s an example. Take the case against Dagget Industries. Dagget has the firm I usually work at on retainer, meaning we represent them in court on occasion. Meaning it would be very bad for the firm I usually work for if they are brought to court and lose, even over something as small as a little girl’s acne problems.”

“I’m pretty sure it was scarring,” Thea felt the need to point out.

“Whatever. The point is, my firm could lose Dagget as a client, which would mean a lot of money walking out the door and probably leading to layoffs. Considering I’m on sabbatical already and would be the one responsible in this hypothetical situation, you can see what kind of position that might leave me in.”

Thea was silent.

Anastasia seemed to take that as permission to continue anyway. “Now I still want to have some friends at my firm once I leave this sabbatical behind me, not to mention a job, so I’m going to be very careful which battles I pick. You understand me?”

“Yeah, think so.” Thea backed away and went to her desk. It had taken everything in her to keep the sarcasm from leaking into her tone.

This sucked. Sure, she hadn’t wanted to be an office gopher when she’d first started out here, but at least when Laurel had been her sponsor she had felt like the little things she was being asked to do would eventually add up to something. What was going to happen to all the people they were turning down? Wasn’t this like their last resort?

She still didn’t fully understand why Laurel had chosen to step down, or what good the Hood was for in these cases. Maybe if Thea could show her friend that the slack was not being picked up in her absence, she’d reconsider her decision and come back. Things could go back to normal.

With that in mind, while she waited just inside CNRI’s doors for Ollie and Mr. Diggle, Thea put in a call.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Laurel, it’s me.”

_“Thea? How’ve you been?”_

She could hear some cars rushing by in the background on Laurel’s end of the line. The other woman was out somewhere then.

“I’m good. Well, mostly. Is this a good time to talk?”

 _“You caught me on the way to the gym,”_ her friend told her. _“So I can give you about fifteen minutes.”_

That probably wasn’t going to be enough to deliver her argument. And she thought she could see the car arriving anyway.

“Then could we meet up sometime, say tomorrow? I get a lunch.”

 _“Uh, I_ think _— yeah, I’ve got that day off. Did you know where you wanted to meet? There’s a food cart that does good wraps about a block and a half from CNRI.”_

“That sounds good.”

 _“Yeah. I’ve missed Hank’s food,”_ the older woman admitted. That sounded even better. Maybe Thea could lure her back to the office with the promise of more wraps. She’d be totally fine buying.

The horn beeped outside. Mr. Diggle must have thought she couldn’t see them.

“Okay, great, I’ll see you at 12:30!” Thea hung up and rushed out to the car.

Oliver was waiting in the backseat for her. “You busy today?”

Thea couldn’t hold in a snort. “Hardly. But I’m hoping that’s gonna change soon.”

If he heard her confident tone, he didn’t choose to comment. That was just fine. Thea wanted to keep her plans to herself for now. Once everything was okay again, then Ollie could know.

And he would owe her big time for sure

\---

To say Laurel had been surprised when Thea had reached out was an understatement. She’d assumed her younger friend would want nothing to do with her after the Hood’s visit to Mrs. Queen. But she’d missed her a lot and wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to catch up.

She left her house early the next day. CNRI would be a bit of a walk, and she didn’t exactly have it timed down to the minute. 

“Laurel, hey!” She turned at the call to find Anita standing by the back of her and Jerome’s place. She was pinning up a white cord. “You headed to work?”

“No, just meeting a friend.”

“Great. Think you could help me hang this line up for a minute?”

Laurel walked along the path and met her neighbor. “Sure. What’s it for?”

“Laundry. Just tie it around that loop Jerome nailed to the fence post. You see it?”

Laurel nodded and took the other end across the yard, tying it as Anita asked so that the line was taut. “I didn’t know they let you air dry in our neighborhood.”

Anita pulled a face. “It’s not a hundred percent legal, but it saves on the bills. Just make sure your lines are down every first of the month when the landlord inspects.”

“Ah, gotcha.” She headed back over to her neighbor so they weren’t discussing criminal activity so loudly. “Ordinances can be a pain sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s not just the cost,” Anita said. She began taking things out of a basket she had sitting by her feet and hanging them. “The dryer messes with my embroidery, you know?”

“You do your own embroidery?”

“Mm-hm,” Anita nodded. “ _Avó_ taught me. That’s granny,” she added for Laurel’s benefit. Her neighbor held up a shirt that had a flower pattern all along the v-neck collar.

“That’s really nice.”

“I could show you sometime. Sewing and stuff, too. I know it sounds like girl stuff, but you’d be amazed how much it saves.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Laurel smiled as she kept studying the flowers. Pam would probably love something like that. Maybe on an apron.

“Well, I won’t keep you longer from your friend. Thanks for the help!”

“It was no problem.” Laurel went back down to the sidewalk and began her walk, at a faster pace to make up some of the time. Fortunately, Thea was only just getting out of the building as she drew up alongside it. Laurel hung back by the side rather than go up to the door. She wasn’t sure she wanted anyone catching sight of her in the sneakers and old jeans she’d thrifted.

Thea spotted her and hurried over in a cute little pea coat and purse. Laurel felt herself smiling already.

“Hey!” Thea stopped short of a hug, something they hadn’t really done since after the _Gambit._ “Thanks for coming out here.”

“It was no problem.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “So, wraps?”

Laurel led the way over to the food cart, Thea walking in step with her.

“Laurel, hey!” Hank greeted with a surprise smile. “Your usual?”

“Make it two, Hank. And I’m paying,” she added to Thea. Her friend started to protest, but Laurel was already handing the money over. Hank didn’t take cards, and she doubted Thea carried much in small bills anyway.

They took the wraps and started walking.

“How’s your community service going?”

“One hour at a time,” Thea answered. She sounded almost as unenthused as when she’d first started, and Laurel frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. It’s Anastasia. She’s not doing anything.”

Laurel had had some worries about that. The woman had made it very clear she wasn’t at CNRI by much choice and would be counting down the days when she went back to her corporate firm. “You mean she’s not taking cases?”

“All she’s agreed to take on are some civil suits involving individuals and not corporations, and a few name change petitions.”

“Well, those are important,” Laurel pointed out. “For a lot of people, it means all the difference to have the name they truly want recognized.”

“Yeah, okay,” Thea admitted. “But we could be doing way more. Maybe if you were there?”

Laurel sighed. She should have expected something like this. “Thea, I was fired. I can’t exactly walk back through the door whenever I want.”

“Well, could you still say the thing they wanted to hear about the Hood?”

Laurel shook her head. “I was serious about that, Thea. I’m not going to denounce him to make a few corporate executives more comfortable. You know, if it weren’t for the Hood people like Sommers who hired the Triad to attack me would still be out there. That dealer who made Vertigo would be, too.”

Thea’s face scrunched up in thought. “I mean, okay, the Hood stops some bad people. But he also attacked mom and took you hostage. If you want to say he’s doing some good, fine, but he seems to be going about it in the wrong way.”

Laurel sighed. “I don’t agree with every action he’s taken, but it’s hard to know what kind of choices you have to make in the heat of the moment.”

Thea shrugged. “Agree to disagree. So—”

Whatever Thea had been about to say was cut off when a boy in a red hoodie knocked into her friend and grabbed the expensive purse hanging from her arm. Laurel could curse herself; she should have never let Thea come meet her out here looking this rich.

“Hey!”

The boy kept running, and without even thinking Laurel took off after him. Enough was _enough_.

A package wrapped in foil whizzed past her head and missed the boy — Thea had thrown one of the sandwiches. They were closing in fast on a fence blocking off the end of the street. But the thief jumped off some boards against the wall and started to climb. Laurel grabbed a handhold around the iron pole and leveraged herself up to snag his ankle before he could get over the top.

He struggled, leg swinging wildly. “Let go!”

“Give it back first!”

He kicked out with his other foot unexpectedly and caught her nose. Laurel felt and heard something crack, but there wasn’t immediate pain. Instead the shock caused her to yank sharply on his leg, sending first him and then herself toppling off the fence to the ground.

The bite of concrete was harsh on her hands and the side of her face, and the landing left her winded. Not as much as the would-be thief who was sprawled on his back while the purse sat a few feet away.

Thea’s heeled boots clopping against the pavement announced her arrival, and Laurel watched her bend down to scoop up her stolen property. “I’ll take that.”

“Have it. Jesus,” the boy groaned.

Laurel sat up and started to push herself off the ground, wincing at her skinned hands.

“Laurel, oh my God!” Thea gasped. “You’re bleeding!”

She reached up to touch her nose — or tried to, but winced at the slightest brush of her fingertips. “It probably looks worse than it is.” She looked down at the boy, who had tucked one of his arms in towards his chest. “What about you?”

He glared up at her. “I’m fine.”

“Is it your wrist?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Laurel, we have to get you to a hospital,” Thea insisted.

She pulled a face and then winced when that hurt. “I don’t have health insurance anymore, Thea. I’ll just try and make a splint at home.” Or maybe call John and ask for his help.

But Thea shook her head. “No way. I can cover it. We’ll go to one of those clinics — don’t the Merlyns have one in the Glades?”

“Uh, no. At least, I think it’s closing soon. Glades Memorial would be better.” Laurel said. It’d be just her life for Tommy to find out she’d wound up a patient in his mother’s clinic because of a scuffle in the street. And she wasn’t sure if Mr. Merlyn had gotten his way about those closing papers.

She looked down at the boy again and sighed, reaching down to haul him up by his good arm.

“I don’t need help,” he spat.

“You need that wrist looked at. Come on. I’ll cover you.”

“Thought you didn’t have the money.”

She didn’t even flinch at his biting tone, much less rise to it. “I broke the wrist, I buy the cast. Let’s go.”

Thea eyed the boy uncertainly for a moment, but walked along on her other side.

“What’s your name?”

“Roy,” he answered after a pause.

“Well Roy, I’m Laurel.”

\---

Roy didn’t really know what to make of the situation he’d found himself in. But that was always the risk when committing a crime, he guessed.

At least there weren’t any cops. Yet.

The two women brought him along with them to Glades Memorial and sure enough he got his wrist looked at.

“It’s a sprain, fortunately,” the doctor told him. “You’re going to want to rest it.”

Sure, like she thought he had the money to sit around doing nothing for a while. At least she gave him some pain meds to go with her advice. Those would be more useful; he could get a pretty good price for them.

Roy sat out in a hallway. The younger girl, Thea Queen as it turned out, stood a few feet away, arms crossed and glancing at him occasionally. He kept his expression sullen. Who was she to judge him when she’d never had to work an honest day of her life either?

A door down the hall opened, admitting the third member of their group. Laurel, he thought she was called.

“Good news, my nose isn’t broken.”

When he looked up, the woman was wearing a sort of splint over it.

“Lucky you.”

“How about your wrist?”

“Sprained.”

“Well, that’s manageable at least. So, Roy, let’s talk.” She pulled the other chair over closer and sat in it. “Why’d you try to steal my friend’s purse?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why do you think? I need money.”

“Your paycheck not enough?”

Roy looked away.

“You don’t have a paycheck,” Laurel guessed. “What’s stopping you from getting a job, Roy? You’re young, fairly strong by the looks of it.”

“What, so I should be out there breaking my back on hard labor?”

“Better than breaking it stealing,” Thea Queen snarked. He scowled at her.

“Look, Roy, I don’t think you’re someone who steals for the thrill of it, or to get rich,” said Laurel. “I think you’re just trying to make ends meet.” Under her tougher getup, she sounded just as well-meaning and patronizing as the social workers that had visited him every so often growing up.

“Yeah, well I’ve found a way to make them meet. Lot easier than trying to get hired with a rap sheet, unless you know somewhere.”

Laurel turned to her friend, a meaningful look on her face. Thea Queen stared back. “Seriously?” She gave a huff. “Fine. My brother’s club is hiring. I could put in a word for you.”

“Because I want to go to work for the rich and powerful in this city? Clean up their vomit and piss for them? No thanks.” Roy stood and made to walk out.

Laurel’s chair scraped back and hit the wall with a sharp bang, and the next thing he knew she was hauling him back around by his good arm.

“You think you’re proving it to someone just because you have an attitude and know how to take whatever you want? You think you’re better than the rich who steal from people in this neighborhood just because you’re from here?” Her look was piercing, and he found himself taking a step back. “No one is going to fix the system for you, Roy. You can either be part of the solution or part of the problem, and if you’re going to take the easy route then I think you can drop the sanctimonious crap.”

“She’s probably got twenty other purses just like that at home!”

“Then keep it.”

They both froze as the bag landed at their feet.

“You’re right. I don’t need it,” Thea Queen stated. “So if you want my money instead of someone else’s in the Glades, I’d rather you take it.”

Something churned unpleasantly in his gut. “I don’t need your charity.”

“No, you’d rather just steal from me instead.” She scoffed and started walking away. Laurel backed up a couple of steps as well, face impassive. Roy looked down at the purse and his beat up sneakers.

He scooped it up and jogged down the hall, pushing it into the younger girl’s arms. “Here,” he said gruffly.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and he swallowed once. Then Roy turned and shoved his good hand in his pocket, shouldering his way out of Glades Memorial.

He’d be damned if he owed them anything. Already bad enough he was feeling guilty. Why should he care about making things better in the Glades? Nobody else did.

Did they?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter. And one with a very monumental decision being made. I'll say no more and let you all enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Ted enjoyed all of his lessons. He wouldn’t be in the business if he didn’t, even if it was all he was good at. Just like with his opponents in the past, each of his students brought something different and challenging to the ring.

Though none were perhaps as interesting as his new student: Dinah Laurel Lance.

She had taken to boxing like a dog with a bone. No one would say she was the natural body type for it, but she made up for all that and more with sheer determination. He’d been right about that good little girl act, too; the more time she spent punching the bag was time spent learning not to keep it all bottled up under a sweet smile for others’ convenience. He didn’t know everything about her life, of course, but he could surmise the highs and lows from how many times her name had been dragged around by the press for this or that thing.

She wasn’t all tough girl, either. She had a good heart no matter what clothes she was wearing or who she was trying to impress. But he hoped training here was giving her the space to figure all that out, who she wanted to be now that she’d been thrown aside by most of the people in her life. For the first time, perhaps, she was getting to go out there on her own terms.

Today there was a spring to her step and an even brighter fire in her eyes. He found himself curious and decided to remark on it.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Her answer was slightly muffled from the mouth guard she had in. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Something happen?”

Laurel paused between combinations to shrug and took out the mouth guard. “I stopped my friend’s purse from getting stolen the other day.”

“That right?”

“Mm-hm.” She took a few steps away to wipe at her neck and brow with a towel, swatting her ponytail to the side. “Got a bloody nose for it, but it was worth it.”

Ted nodded slowly. He had thought the blood and sweat and bruises were worth it, too, once. “Maybe you should’ve gone into enforcing law instead of studying it.”

Laurel snorted. “Believe me, I tried. Dad wouldn’t let me join the police academy.”

There was the chip on the shoulder again. She had a lot of those, from what he could tell.

“How was the other guy?”

“Sprained wrist. I didn’t really mean for that to happen. He was just a kid.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “Sara’s bullies were kids, too.”

Ted got his water bottle and took a swig. “Well, part of what you learn to do here is minimize harm. Yours and others.”

Laurel nodded and reached for her gloves to pull them back on.

He could tell throughout the rest of the session her mind was still on the encounter with the purse thief, the same way he used to turn thoughts about his matches — both official and not — over in his head long after they were over. She was more alike him than not, despite their different backgrounds.

That didn’t necessarily mean good things.

\---

McKenna was really starting to wonder. Oliver was certainly a different guy than the party boy she remembered in her wild days. But she wasn’t sure if that meant he was a better boyfriend.

He seemed distracted, was the main thing. As someone with a lot on her own plate, she could understand to an extent. But it always seemed as if his mind was miles away and five steps ahead in the conversation.

They had yet to go out since that failed dinner date that was interrupted by an alert on her pager about the Dodger. Not like that had ended up being useful; the art thief had gotten away that night along with the Hood when he made a surprise appearance. Oliver hadn’t called to make new plans yet, and McKenna had been too busy to do so herself. She chose to stop by his club late one evening instead. It was a little out of her way, but she figured the direct approach would work better than playing phone tag.

He seemed happy enough to see her. They talked for a little while, nothing of real consequence. She had a shift to be getting to, after all.

His phone buzzed where it sat on the bar top, and McKenna couldn’t help noticing the notification that popped up. Especially since he was staring at it with a troubled frown.

_Carjacking on Blake St. Red Honda._

McKenna raised an eyebrow. “You got a neighborhood watch app for the Glades?”

Oliver gave a little shake of the head, seeming to come back to the conversation. “I like to know what’s going on around the club.”

She smirked. “What have I told you about leaving things to the police?”

He held out both hands. “I am, believe me. I learned my lesson after you let me off for the Vertigo thing. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“We all get a little crazy about family sometimes. I got a sister.”

He nodded.

She checked the time again and pulled a face. “I should get going.”

“Alright. We’ll talk soon,” Oliver promised. He waited a beat and only leaned in to kiss her cheek when she offered it. She couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate him waiting for permission.

McKenna arrived at the bullpen to find an uncharacteristically distracted Lance at his desk. His eyes kept jumping to the radio he’d left sitting there, and she could tell he was rereading the same few lines of the latest report he’d gotten on the Hood.

A couple of officers entered the bullpen and he was suddenly up like a shot, just about when McKenna was going to ask if something was wrong.

“Hey, Valeres,” he called. One of the officers stopped and walked over. “That carjacking case, did you check that out?”

“Went to the owner’s residence and took down some information.”

Lance nodded. “Nothing else happening in that part of the neighborhood, though.”

“Nothing we picked up.”

Lance nodded. “Alright. Good work.” He turned and headed for the break room, probably for another cup of coffee.

Valeres looked to her. “Any idea what that was about?”

McKenna could only shrug.

“Blake Street is one block over from his daughter’s new place,” said a low voice just behind her. She looked back to find Hilton standing there. “He was asking you if everything was safe over there.”

McKenna frowned. “Why doesn’t he just ask Laurel?”

Hilton sighed. “They haven’t really spoken regularly since the Hood incident. So he’s taking the indirect approach. I never said it made sense.” He returned to his own desk long before Lance got back to his, coffee in one hand and the other dragging through his hair. He touched the frame of a photo briefly just before he sat down; a younger him with two smiling girls.

Oliver wasn’t the only one acting a little crazy about family, then. And maybe Oliver wasn’t just crazy about his family.

Were they really even dating? Or was his mind still occupied with the girl he’d once wronged?

It could be just as he said, that he’d gotten the neighborhood watch app for his club. But then, wasn’t that the job of his security to monitor things?

McKenna was someone who was fiercely herself. That hadn’t changed just because she’d given up the late nights at bars for late nights at a desk in the bullpen. She believed that there wasn’t a need for _sorry_ in a relationship, but by that token a relationship required absolute trust.

She sent Oliver a text asking to meet up the next day. It was well past four in the morning when he finally replied that they could.

He took her to Big Belly Burger for lunch. It seemed so unlike something for the heir to the Queen fortune to do, but she liked that about him. She liked Oliver, and that was only going to make this harder.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me.”

“It was no problem.”

“Well, I know how busy we’ve both been.” They ordered their food and ate for a while in mostly silence, broken only by the occasional question about work. They didn’t seem to talk about much other than work. She’d tried asking once about his time away, but that had gone terribly.

Once she had finished, McKenna wiped her hands on a napkin and drew in a breath. “I guess I’m just wondering where we see this going, Oliver.”

He set his food down and frowned. “You mean us? I thought we’d just take things as they went for a little while.”

“I’m worried they’re not really going anywhere, is all,” she confessed. “We both have things we’re prioritizing in our life over this. I’m trying to solidify my position as a detective on the force, you’re trying to open your business.”

He nodded but waited for her to continue.

“And there might be people we’re prioritizing, too.”

Here, he spoke. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t the only one keeping an eye on the Glades. Lance was interested in that carjacking, too. Because of Laurel.”

“McKenna…”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” she stated for the record. “I’m just asking if there’s some unresolved stuff you need to work through before you’re ready to give a new relationship a chance.”

Oliver sat there, his face blank but his eyes showing just a hint of an internal struggle. “Laurel was my friend before everything else.”

McKenna nodded. She remembered.

“And she’s always going to be someone I care about. That doesn’t change no matter who I’m with or what kind of disagreement we might be having. That’s something a potential partner should probably know about me.”

McKenna took that in. She wasn’t a jealous type, and she trusted that those five years on an island had taught Oliver a lesson about cheating. She also didn’t believe Laurel could be interested in being one of many women after that experience. But did she want a relationship where she knew on a certain level her partner maintained a commitment to a past lover? That would warrant more thought.

“Okay, here’s something you should know about me,” she decided to say for now. “I’m very dedicated to my job, and I will do what is necessary. That’s going to put me in danger a lot of the time, especially with my being on the anti-vigilante task force. I could, theoretically, be killed out there.”

“Well, not by the Hood. I mean, he hasn’t killed anyone in law enforcement, has he?”

“Not as yet, but he’s fought them. He’s a lawless killer, Oliver. We can’t assume he has any boundaries.” She watched him shift uncomfortably. “I know you’ve been through some traumatic experiences and lost people close to you. I’m telling you that you could lose me too, unexpectedly and violently. Is that something you’re okay with?”

His mouth opened and then closed. She thought he might be considering the idea for the very first time.

“Here’s my suggestion,” she continued. “We take a break, think things over, decide what we both want and what we’re willing to agree to. I want us to be able to trust each other, Oliver, and that means knowing where we’re coming from.”

He picked at a fry. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Okay. Text me when you’ve had a chance to think about things. We’ll talk. Open line of communication, right?”

It took a beat longer than it should have, but he lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Right.”

McKenna managed a small smile and stood, leaving the restaurant. She honestly believed this was the best choice for them going forward. If it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be, but she’d rather come to that decision as rational adults than see it end in some messy catastrophe. 

And it wasn’t necessarily over yet.

\---

Roy wandered down the aisles at Khan’s, looking for something cheap he could make one-handed. His wrist was still bothering him, but he had money now from selling off the pain meds. He could put up with a little pain just for that. The cash could last him through the whole next month if he budgeted it right.

Thea Queen had come by his place once since their meeting that day. He didn’t know how she got his address, or why she’d bothered. What was he to her besides some sort of helpless case she could feel good about?

At least, he’d thought that way until she’d opened up about her past with drugs. Now he wasn’t sure if she was doing this to make herself feel better or if she genuinely didn’t see why they couldn’t be on good terms. She didn’t get that wasn’t how it worked in this town, did she?

A scream came from outside. Roy dropped the hot pocket he’d been considering and raced out the door, Mr. Khan on his heels.

Two women stood by the bus stop in some kind of ethnic dress. The one had her arms over her head while her friend tried to shield her, her hair falling loose. Roy turned to the right and saw a man with a shaved head jogging up the street and waving a colorful scarf through the air as he whooped and hollered.

“Yeah, this is America!”

Roy’s good fist clenched. “Hey!”

The man gave a start and then picked up the pace, almost all the way down the block. Roy was about to start after him, but a hand landed on his shoulder.

It was Mr. Khan. “Hood!”

“What?” Roy looked around. It was broad daylight, was the vigilante really—

“Hood. Your hood, boy. For the lady.”

Roy glanced back at the women, now crying as they huddled together. He shrugged out of his red hoodie and tossed it to Khan, then took off down the pavement.

“I’ll be right back!”

Roy rounded the corner and kept going, the man re-entering his line of sight and giving him a burst of speed. He was almost a full block behind him though. A few shoppers and shop keeps were out along the sidewalk, some of them staring at the man in confusion as he passed.

He could feel a stitch in his side as he kept up the brutal pace. He wasn’t going to catch up.

“Hey, somebody stop that guy!”

The man glanced back over his shoulder at Roy’s desperate yell, and that gave a woman the opening to jut her leg out and trip him. A very familiar woman.

“Oh no,” Roy breathed to himself as Laurel reached down and picked up the scarf.

“Jesus, lady, I’m bleeding!”

“Yeah, well don’t use this to mop it up. Doesn’t look like it belongs to you.” She looked over to Roy as he made it the rest of the way there. “So, what’s the story?”

“There’s a lady back there,” Roy panted, jerking his thumb back towards where he’d come from. “That’s her head scarf thing.”

Laurel nodded in understanding, then glared down at the man on the ground.

He glared right back. “Like that’s proof. You assaulted me!”

“Great, you can take it up with the police. Make sure to ask for Detective Lance,” she replied with cool confidence. Then she turned and bent to pick up a watering can Roy only just noticed she’d had to set down to stop the guy.

The guy scrambled up and grabbed hold of her hair in one quick flurry of movement. Roy darted forward, catching him around the neck while Laurel struggled to throw them both off.

“What’s going on out here?” An old woman asked, standing in the doorway of the shop Laurel had come from, Green Glades.

Roy staggered back in the next instant as Laurel broke free, a tearing sound and a cry of pain resulting. The guy staggered back as well but twisted and pushed Roy off him, and he only just caught himself on his good arm as the guy took off.

“Laurel!” The old woman cried. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Fine, Pam,” Laurel said with more of a grunt than anything. She was gingerly prodding at her head. “I think he tore out some of my hair.”

Roy winced. That had to hurt.

Pam came forward and brought an arm around Laurel’s back. “Let’s get you inside, then. Have a look at that.”

“Yeah, let me just—” She turned back towards Roy, holding out the head scarf that she’d balled up protectively in her fist. “Can you make sure this gets back to the woman?”

Roy nodded. Khan could probably point him in the right direction if the two of them weren’t still at the bus stop.

“Sorry about that,” he added, gesturing to his head.

Laurel shook her head. “You were doing the right thing. I’m glad I could help.”

She started to follow her boss inside, but Roy called out, “Hey. Why’d you tell the guy to ask for Lance?” The few times he’d had run-ins with the cops so far, the guy was a total hardass.

Laurel smiled, a little wry. “He’s my father.”

Roy stared in surprise as she disappeared through the door of the florists. Sure, detectives weren’t rich the way Thea Queen was rich, but what was a cop’s daughter doing slumming it out here with the rest of them?

Roy returned to the bus stop by Mr. Khan’s store to find no one there, but a look inside the shop revealed the man had brought both women inside to recover. He presented the head scarf sheepishly and was met with tears and profuse thanks, both of which made him uncomfortable.

“You are a good boy at heart. We may make a good man of you yet, Roy,” Mr. Khan declared. Roy just shrugged as he pulled his hoodie back over his head.

Then he took a walk over to the community center. It didn’t do much these days besides organize little league teams, but it had free WiFi and he didn’t have to buy anything to use it. He got out his phone and searched the name Laurel Lance, surprised by the number of articles that popped up.

The woman everyone had said was in with the Hood. She was the same person.

Roy didn’t know how he felt about the Hood. On the one hand, part of him thought it was about time some of those men the vigilante had gone after got a bit of a taste of repercussions. On the other hand, little had improved in the Glades themselves.

He read about Laurel’s fall from grace after the kidnapping incident, how the pro bono law firm she’d worked for had let her go after pressure from on high. Typical. The system was broken from top to bottom, even the people that were supposed to be helping. Either they looked the other way or they got chewed up and spat out like she had.

But Thea Queen was still friends with Laurel, even though the older woman had supported a vigilante who made it his business to go after the one percent. Maybe the Queen heiress wasn’t completely the high and mighty princess he’d always assumed she would have to be.

\---

Laurel spent that night nursing the back of her head where it was still sore from the scuffle outside the shop. It would feel better eventually, and she was lucky Pam had been more concerned about her well-being than about employees rough housing out in front of her store.

“You did a good thing stopping that man. Lived up to your name, too. The laurel is a symbol of victory,” her boss remarked.

“Well, I guess I was owed one by now,” Laurel replied wryly.

When she recounted the story to Anita and Jerome over dinner at their place, the two seemed far more animated about it.

“Girl, you’re crazy!” Anita exclaimed as her boyfriend let out a low whistle. “Are you trying to end up in the hospital?”

“I didn’t really plan to get involved in a fight. It just happened. I would have been fine if he hadn’t gotten a hold of my hair.”

“Yeah, well that’s one advantage to keeping things short,” Jerome said, passing a hand over his own cropped cut.

“Yeah, you might be right,” Laurel had agreed quietly, taking another bite of her _acarajé._

She liked her hair the way it was, but she could see how it disadvantaged her in a fight. That was one of the things they’d gone over back in her old self defense classes.

She posed the question to Ted at her next lesson. The man shrugged.

“It’s your decision. I don’t teach people to fight dirty in the ring, so you should be fine.” His look turned rather pointed at the word _should,_ so Laurel quickly changed the subject.

What clinched the deal was Anita, or more accurately her job. The hair salon her neighbor worked at was doing a donation drive, according to the flyers on her table when Laurel came over for their informal sewing lessons. Hair above a certain length would be taken to make into wigs for those unable to afford buying them.

“Do you think my hair would work for this?” She asked, fingers touching a flyer.

Anita paused after making another stitch. “Yeah, could get some inches off you. You’d have to be willing to go pretty short, though. Would you be okay with that?”

She shrugged. Laurel had never really had short hair before, but then what was the harm? It would grow back. After all the change in her life recently, this felt like such a small thing, and it would help somebody else. More importantly, it was something she could choose to do, rather than her being forced into doing it.

“Okay,” said Anita. “Stop by when I’m there. We’ll make sure it looks good.”

Laurel came by the salon the next day after work, glad for the chance to put up her feet and let somebody else pamper her a bit. Anita smiled wide when she saw her reflected in the mirror.

“Hey! Give me fifteen to finish up.”

Laurel waited, letting the chatter of the salon wash over her. She recognized a few women from here or there in the neighborhood. One had even come in to the shop for a bouquet arrangement for her mother the other day. Laurel had put the whole thing together herself without Pam’s supervision.

Soon enough, she was sat in the chair by her friend after a quick wash that had felt pretty good. “So I’m thinking we can still give you a little length on the one side if we part your hair further on the left. See?” Anita combed her fingers through to give a demo of the effect.

“Yeah, sounds good. I trust you.”

Anita shook her head, her long ponytail swaying side to side. “You are too willing to roll with the punches, Laurel. Alright, let’s try it.”

It was a lot longer sitting in the chair than at her usual hair appointments. Anita kept pinning up, cutting, pinning, and cutting over and over again. She felt, gradually, like a weight was being taken off her.

Eventually, Anita used the blow dry and fussed with her hair a bit, then told her to check it out in the mirror. Laurel stared at herself for a solid minute, processing the difference.

“You hate it. Oh, I knew you would.”

“No. It’s...just really different.” She gave an experimental shake of the head, seeing how her hair moved now. “I think I needed the change.”

“Yeah?” Anita played with it some more. “It is kind of fun. The new you.” She leaned in closer. “We should dye it. Do something real crazy.”

Laurel grinned. “Maybe next time. Thanks for doing this.”

“Hey, thanks for donating.”

About the only person she had to show her new look off to the next day was Pam, and the older woman was very complimentary which certainly didn’t hurt her ego. A couple of customers who had been in once or twice before remarked on it as well to her surprise, and Laurel found herself smiling through most of the day.

Pam shuffled up to her as she finished counting up the register. Laurel handed her the total that went into the woman’s safe upstairs. “Here you are.”

“Thank you. I have something for you, too.”

Laurel froze, and then it hit her. “Another plant?” Her violet hadn’t survived long past the transfer to Tupperware container, so she should have realized something like this might happen.

Pam nodded. “I want you to try again.”

“I just don’t know if raising plants is for me, Pam.”

Her boss acted as though she hadn’t heard. “ _Sansevieria trifasciata._ 'Laurentii'.” She hefted a much larger potted plant with long, straight leaves and no flowers onto the counter. “Known by a variety of names. ‘Snake plant’. ‘Mother-in-law’s tongue’. I prefer ‘Viper’s bowstring hemp.’”

“Bowstring, huh?” Laurel sighed. “Okay, what do I need to do to take care of it? How much sunlight should it get?”

“That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to keep it by a window, you don’t have to water it much. It’s a tough plant, evolved to survive a harsh sun and droughts — and it thrives in the dark.” She smiled. “The night is when it comes alive.”

Laurel found herself smiling back.

She carried the plant the whole walk home, balancing it with care as she took out her keys to unlock her door. Rather than leave it on a windowsill or somewhere else precarious, Laurel stuck it in a corner on the floor. She brushed her hands off on her jeans and stood back to admire the effect. Not bad.

Laurel made herself some canned soup and afterwards washed all her dishes from that week. She clicked around on her phone for an hour while she waited for the water to heat up again for a shower. Once her nightly ritual was completed, she sank into bed, hardly even noticing the lumps in the mattress as she drifted off.

A hail of bullets slamming into some far-off wall ripped her from sleep. Laurel sat up in the dark, listening intently. There was a faint echo of return fire even further away. She waited and listened some more.

Silence. She didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or not. Silence also meant no intervention, not from the police or anyone else.

Laurel laid back down but couldn’t seem to find whatever comfortable position she’d had on the lumpy mattress. Or calm her racing mind.

She sat back up again, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them.

As much as she spoke of the hope Oliver was giving people, living here forced her to face the facts: fear was the ruling emotion of the Glades. Fear and apathy. After all, she hadn’t even bothered to phone the police, had she? Not when she knew they wouldn’t come.

The Glades had been abandoned by just about anyone who had the power to do something about it, and even Oliver was here by coincidence more often than not. He was more concerned with the billionaires on his father’s list than the people they’d hurt. Laurel didn’t doubt he cared, but it was in an abstract sort of way; they would benefit in the long run from his interventions. Trickle-down justice for a system built on trickle-down economics.

Laurel got up and went to her little kitchen, rooting around in the dark to see if there was any tea left in her cabinets. Something to calm her down. She was only being so uncharitable to him because she was tired. It would be impossible for Oliver to take on all the city’s ills, five years of training or no.

The mission was probably easier to rely on. It was concrete and had an endpoint, however distant. How could any one person hope to turn the tide of violence and crime in the Glades?

But if no one did anything, nothing would get done. Wasn’t that the whole reason she believed in Oliver’s crusade?

Maybe the problem wasn’t that one person couldn’t change everything. Maybe the problem was that she and everyone else were relying on _just_ one person.

Laurel shut the cabinet and turned away, leaning her back on the countertop. That kind of thought froze a person, really made them question what they were doing.

What was she doing? Sitting around in a cramped apartment, barred from the courtroom and her way of making a difference. And not for the first time. She’d become a lawyer to help people, and she’d only chosen that path because she’d been denied even the chance to apply for the police academy. Since she’d been turned away once more, it was time to find another means of saving the city. And Oliver was already providing one example.

An illegal one. But in a system as broken as theirs, did legality really matter?

She’d lost her job, her boyfriend, her father hardly wanted to talk to her anymore except to try and convince her to sacrifice her principles for a bit of comfort. What more did she have to lose?

People in the Glades didn’t have another option like she might. They didn’t have people ready to bail them out or let them live in safety. They didn’t have the choice to be involved in this fight or not; their very homes had been turned into the battleground.

If she was going down this path anyway, why not commit to it?

Laurel breathed in and out, her heartbeat loud in her ears. This would change her whole life. If she were ever caught…

But she couldn’t keep living like this anymore. She didn’t want to wait for things to happen to her. She didn’t want to constantly feel like there was more she should’ve done.

No more trying to save the world. Time to actually do it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, both for this chapter coming a day late and for the relative shortness compared to the previous week's chapter. We had family in for a birthday celebration, so the former couldn't be helped, and as for the latter I am hoping that events in this latest update - including a significant departure from canon - will make up for its brevity. Thanks so much for reading, and please enjoy!

Tommy’s twenty-eighth birthday brought with it severely mixed feelings. On the one hand, he had his best friend back to celebrate it with him for the first time in five years. He also received a call from his father on the day and an invitation to dinner whenever he was available that week. Their repairing relationship was perhaps the strangest upturn his life had taken thus far, not even Ollie coming back from the dead able to top it.

But this was also the first year it wasn’t being marked by a certain Laurel Lance. She’d always remembered to send him a text or a card, occasionally met him up for the odd drink or two. There was one year they’d — well, but that was in the past.

He didn’t know what to feel about Laurel anymore. The anger was there even if it had faded, mostly. He was just… disappointed. Disappointed that she was wasting her life and her potential on problems that were never going to be fixed. As his father had reminded him, his mother had died doing the same thing.

God, what if she died out there? Would it make the news? Would he see it on his television, _former CNRI lawyer found dead in apparent mugging_? Sometimes he was seconds away from calling Joanna to see if she had any news, but he always stopped himself. Laurel had made her her choice.

He and Oliver went out for drinks the night of. Tommy had maybe a few too many, and he found himself among some women he’d never met before but was now glad he had. He woke up the day after his birthday in an unfamiliar bed, gathered up his clothes and left without seeing who he’d been with. It was meaningless, and they both knew that.

At dinner, his father surprised him yet again.

“The city is honoring me this week with the humanitarian of the year award. I’d very much like you to be there, Tommy.”

He didn’t see why he shouldn’t be. He knew Oliver wouldn’t mind him taking the night off if it was something for family.

“Of course.”

His father smiled, an expression he was only starting to get used to seeing aimed in his direction. “Thank you, Tommy. The truth is, of anyone in this family, Rebecca should have been the one to receive this honor.”

Tommy nodded, his mood turning more somber. “She’d be proud of you for continuing her work.”

“That is the thought that guides me through each day,” his father confessed, his eyes shining. Tommy had always resented him for leaving those two years after, when he was also grieving, but he’d never given much thought to his own father’s grieving process. How much he’d lost that night. Maybe he’d been wrong to be so harsh.

He showed up the night of the ceremony at Merlyn Global in a new tux, greeting various people, mostly his father’s associates. He was glad to see Mrs. Queen, though she seemed a little distracted.

His father gave a speech, and just as he’d finished the lights shut off. People looked around in confusion, talking to each other and questioning the situation. The crowd jostled each other as an evacuation alarm sounded. Tommy looked for his father but was found instead when his dad grabbed him by the shoulders, telling him of the exit on the second floor.

Everything was a frantic rush after that. His father kept moving them up higher as men in server’s uniforms fired on them. The Hood of all people showed up and told them to run.

His father killed two men.

“As surely as he would have killed you,” was the answer his dad gave when Tommy objected. He then led them up the final flight to his penthouse office, inputting the code to seal them in.

His father was confident in their safety, so Tommy took the opportunity to demand, “How did you know how to do that? Fight. Kill.”

The only answer he got was his dad moving to a wall on the side and removing a painting to input yet another code. A wall started to slide open, though Tommy couldn’t see what was beyond it from where he stood.

And then all hell broke loose.

The window shattered with a force that almost shook the room, the wall sliding back shut. His father stepped forward, and a bullet caught him just below his neck. Tommy rushed to him as he fell, only for his dad to rise momentarily. He showed him the bulletproof vest. What kind of world were they living in where the _humanitarian of the year_ had to take this many precautions?

The bullet had only nicked his skin but his father stopped talking and slumped back down. “Dad? Dad!”

Soft footfalls and a shadow soon indicated they weren’t alone. He looked up and was momentarily stunned by the sight that met him.

The Hood. Tommy scrambled to pick up the gun his father had taken off one of the men downstairs.

“Stay back!”

 _“I’m not here to hurt you or your father,”_ the vigilante claimed.

“I said stay back!”

He didn’t listen, taking another step and reaching for something on the ground. He murmured something, but in the modulated voice Tommy couldn’t make it out. And anyway, he was more concerned with the vigilante’s continued approach.

“Don’t come any closer!” The gun shook in his hands, or his hands were shaking, but he did his best to keep on trained on the hooded man.

_“Your father's been poisoned. An assassin named Floyd Lawton laces his bullets with curare. I've dealt with this before. We need to dilute the poison in his bloodstream.”_

“I said stay the hell back!”

 _“In three minutes he's paralyzed. In four minutes, he suffocates. If you don't let me help you now, he's dead before anybody gets here!_ ” The man growled.

“Help.” Tommy couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “How?”

_“Fresh blood buys him time to get to the hospital.”_

“A blood transfusion? That's insane!” 

_“It's the only way. He needs your blood.”_

The Hood wanted to perform a medical experiment on his father. The same man that had attacked Mrs. Queen, that had abducted Laurel and destroyed her life, now thought he could help them? No.

He wasn’t going to let this monster take anything else from him.

 _“You're out of time. You need to make a decision right now.”_ The Hood took another menacing step. 

Tommy squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud in his ears, and he jolted back at the force. By the time he steadied his aim again, the vigilante was diving out of the shattered window, swinging away to safety.

He dropped the gun, hands shaking at what he’d tried to do. He’d missed, but he had meant to shoot a man, just like he’d seen his father do minutes prior.

“Dad,” he muttered, his pulse spiking again. His father was still lying unresponsive on the floor. Tommy fumbled for his phone and hit the emergency call button, hoping desperately it would be picked up as soon as possible.

_“911, what’s your emergency?”_

“We’re in the penthouse office at Merlyn Global. My dad, he was nicked with a bullet and won’t wake up. Please send help!”

_“Help is on the way. Just stay on the line.”_

“God, dad. God, dad, please,” Tommy begged, using his free hand to grasp his father’s. He couldn’t lose him, too. No matter what their relationship had been till now, he couldn’t lose his father, too.

\---

Quentin didn’t often allow himself to be in the position of feeling guilty. He did things by the book, by and large, he was good at his job. Usually when things in his life went wrong it was because some other person had decided to screw with him or his family.

But this time he couldn’t quite pin the blame elsewhere.

Maybe if he’d been willing to bend a little, work with the vigilante when he called. Maybe they could have had officers in the surrounding buildings, caught the sniper before he could get to his perch. Organized crime might have had some luck in catching the Triad if he’d tipped them off.

As it was, he was now stuck sitting in a hospital waiting room with his daughter’s ex-boyfriend, waiting on news of one of the richest men in the city. The older Merlyn had reportedly been unresponsive but breathing when first responders picked him up. They’d started him on fresh blood during the ambulance drive over.

Merlyn’s son sat with his head in his hands. He’d shakily confirmed that the Hood had made an appearance in the penthouse office, but that he’d driven the vigilante off. Quentin still wasn’t sure what had had the Hood so concerned about a one-percenter like Malcolm Merlyn. Was it possible the good press about the businessman was really true?

A doctor entered the room and approached Tommy Merlyn. He spoke quietly, though the expression on Merlyn’s face was shattered enough for him to guess it wasn’t good news. Quentin noticed a nurse hovering in the doorway and walked over.

“Comatose,” she confirmed in a low voice. “We’re hoping that keeping him under will allow his body to heal, but…”

Quentin returned to sit by Merlyn’s chair as the doctor left. “I’m sorry about your father,” he said, none of his usual bite when addressing the young man present in his voice. It wasn’t time for his personal disagreements.

“He’s the only family I have, and we were _finally_ getting along. I just- if I lose him now…” he hung his head low. “If the Hood could have just brought the paramedics _with_ him or taken him down to them, I don’t know—”

Quentin blinked. “How’s that?”

“He wanted to do a- a blood transfusion. Between me and my dad,” Merlyn clarified. “If I’d agreed, would it have saved him?”

“Well, there’s no telling if the Hood would’ve known how to do one properly,” he offered, even knowing as he said it that the vigilante wouldn’t have recommended it unless he did. That wasn’t what the kid needed to hear, though. “And your father’s still alive.”

The young man nodded, but his frown remained set on his face.

Quentin looked away, and in doing so spotted a young woman watching them from around a corner. His eyes narrowed in confusion as she noticed his stare and ducked back around to hide — but then, he recognized that expression. It was the same one Laurel had always worn when he’d caught her up past her bedtime reading under the covers.

“Look, I’m gonna give you some time, okay?”

The younger Merlyn nodded, and Quentin stood and made his way down the hall to his daughter.

As he approached, he had to slow as he started to tally the differences in his girl. Gone were the nice clothes and soft makeup; she wore a ripped up jean jacket with leggings and boots, and her lips were a dark red. Her hair had been cut short, the longest piece hanging over her forehead and just barely reaching below her chin.

“Hey, dad.”

His mouth opened, but he couldn’t seem to find words, so he just nodded stiffly.

“How’s Mr. Merlyn?”

That was easier; work always was. “Doctors are saying he’s slipped into a coma. They’re not sure yet how deep.”

Laurel looked down, scuffing one boot on the floor. “Is Tommy okay?”

“Holding up as well as expected. He could probably do with some support.”

Laurel shook her head. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

There wasn’t much Quentin could say to argue that point. “You came here anyway.”

She shrugged, almost helpless. “I had to check on him.”

He could understand that. He’d been doing a lot of checking up on a loved one too, lately.

The silence had stretched on thanks to his lack of response, and so Laurel nodded once before slowly turning on her heel. Quentin screwed up his nerves and said, “Laurel.”

She stopped. “Yeah, dad?”

“You— I mean could we— how’s the new job?”

“It’s good. I’m learning a lot.”

He nodded once. “Good.”

“Was there anything else?”

 _Yes,_ he wanted to say, _I miss you. Where did my good girl go? What have I done?_

“No,” he said instead, watching her shoulders slump at the answer. “That should, uh, that should do it.

“Unless,” he added, and she stopped again. Quentin didn’t think he was imagining the tiny spark of hope in her eyes. “I don’t know what your schedule’s like these days, but we could grab dinner maybe.”

“Okay. The shop closes at six, so I’m good most nights. Joanna and her mom invited me over on Friday, and I promised Anita we’d go out Saturday. But any other night works.”

“Anita?” He didn’t recognize that name.

“My neighbor. She and her husband, they’ve been really great.”

Quentin looked down. This was something a father should have already known. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’ve made friends.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ll look at my schedule, get back to you in a couple of days.”

“Okay.” She was still standing there so guarded. He hated it. He wished he’d never gotten the idea to plant that stupid bug in the phone and wreck his daughter’s trust in him so completely. Why couldn’t there be some easy solution?

The solution wasn’t easy, but he did know how it had to start. “You know, I am — I’m sorry, honey. For everything with the Hood and your job, but mostly for what it did to us.”

She drew in a breath and stepped forward, slowly bringing her arms around for a hug that he readily returned. It was still Laurel he held in his arms, Nothing about her changed appearance changed that. He could squeeze his eyes shut and pretend none of the bad stuff had ever even happened.

“I’m sorry, too. But thank you for saying so.”

She drew away and walked down the hall, out of his sight. Quentin let her go. She wasn’t his little girl anymore, and hadn’t been for some time even if he’d refused to see it. He’d have to get to know this young woman if he wanted any part of his daughter’s life going forward.

But if tonight had taught him anything, it was best to reach out to family while there was still the time.

\---

The fight with Dark Archer at Christmas had been one thing. Laurel losing her job at CNRI another. But this?

Mr. Merlyn lay comatose in the hospital. Tommy had effectively lost his other parent to violence, and he could have _done_ something this time. He’d tried to do something. And he’d failed. Every time it seemed to count most, he failed.

Oliver remained in the base all night. He couldn’t go to the hospital, knowing he was to blame for not saving Tommy’s father. It would be impossible for him to put on an act in front of his best friend right now.

He’d sent Diggle home a long time ago, and the base was empty. McKenna had tried calling once, which he’d ignored. He didn’t know what time it was, as he remained sitting back against a wall. But at some point, the door opened and footsteps descended lightly.

“Oliver?”

His breath caught. Of course she’d come to him when he couldn’t bring himself to face anyone.

He heard her set something down on a table, and then her footsteps came closer. She rounded the corner and spotted him the same time he did her.

His melancholy lifted for a moment just at the sight of her, though that had more to do with surprise than anything. She’d cut her hair. Oliver stood as she approached, looking hardly like the young girl in the photo he’d kept for five years. Her soft smile was still the same, though.

“I thought I might find you here.”

“You heard the news.”

“Hard not to. It’s all any of the stations are talking about. Have you seen Tommy yet?”

He shook his head, and Laurel frowned.

“Why not?”

“He shot at me.” Oliver watched Laurel’s eyebrows raise. “As the Hood.”

“Tommy?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t close to hitting me, but I had to leave him before somebody got hurt. And now his dad…” he looked away.

“This wasn’t your fault, Oliver. You can’t help someone if they don’t want your help.”

“I should have told him the truth about me. Then he might have been able to trust me. He might have understood why you...” Oliver trailed off while Laurel pursed her lips. He knew it was probably still a sensitive subject to get into, so he let that thought lie. “Now I can’t ever tell him. He’d be so betrayed.”

If Laurel agreed with his assessment or not, she didn’t say. She simply pulled him into a hug. One of his hands went to the back of her head, and he found himself trailing his fingers through the short ends of her hair, marveling at the new feeling. Laurel let him, just radiating that calm strength she had always possessed.

Eventually they both stepped back.

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to him?”

“No. But I have something for him.” She led him back over to the table where he saw a bouquet of some kind of pink and orange flowers he didn’t know the name of sitting in a vase with water. “They’re called _alstroemeria._ Can you make sure this gets to him?”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, I’ll make sure it does.”

Laurel smiled for him again. “I know you don’t think so right now, but Tommy could really use a friend. And Ollie, you’re all he has.”

“I know.” It would be hard. It would be harder even than all the lying he’d been doing to his mother and sister. But he had to try for Tommy. “Thank you.”

“I’m still here for you.”

“I know.” He wished he could do more for her in return. If he only knew what was going on in the city, how to stop it, then he could leave all this behind and focus on his loved ones like he wanted to. 

But it couldn’t be. Just like he was kidding himself thinking he could have a relationship with a detective who was part of the task force hunting him down.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Laurel asked, and that drew him up short.

“What day is it?”

She shook her head. “Come on. We’ll get you some lunch. My treat, and no arguments.”

Laurel took a hold of his arm with strength he wasn’t expecting, looping it through her own. He’d probably feel guilt over it later — of the two of them, he was the one with far more cash to burn — but for once he was grateful to let someone else he trusted take the lead.

\---

Moira paced the floor of her office. A coma. Perhaps the worst possible outcome. Malcolm was down, but not out. Not entirely.

Had he known his life was in danger, that there were some in his midst conspiring against him? Had he suspected her? If he woke, she supposed she would have her answers.

Now the only question was what to do in the meantime.

The door opened quietly and Frank slipped through. “I got your call. I’m not sure it’s safe to be meeting like this so soon after, Moira.”

“We’re just two people meeting after a tragedy has befallen our good friend, Frank,” Moira reminded him. “Nothing more.”

“Well, we both know that’s not true.”

“And we’re the only two who can ever know. Not until the job is complete.”

Frank looked at her in shock. “You can’t be suggesting—”

“We need to consider all our options, Frank. Can it be done?”

Her partner in this terrible crime slowly shook his head. “The Triad are unhappy. They lost good men to the Hood, and hiring two separate assassins was not cheap. They are not interested in doing me any favors at the moment.”

Moira closed her eyes. She’d been afraid that would be the answer. Without a third party to hire to take care of things, Malcolm would be allowed to lie undisturbed in the hospital. Perhaps, to heal.

“Then we go forward with Malcolm’s agenda.”

“Moira?”

“There’s still a chance he could wake up, Frank. If he does and discovers we’ve dismantled his work in the meantime,” she let that thought hang in the air between them, not needing to finish it.

“I have begun taking precautions,” he admitted. “Amanda will be staying in London for the foreseeable future. You should think about relocating your family as well, Moira.”

“I can’t.” Not until she had her whole family, at any rate. There was too much at stake for her here in Starling to simply abandon it. And Oliver had already been asking questions. A drastic move like that would only increase his interest.

“Then I suppose we must do as you say. Allow the preparations to proceed.” Frank fixed her a look. “And should the device be completed?”

Moira thought their options over. The closer they got to the completion of the Undertaking, the more abhorrent she found it. Knowing it was no longer an abstract idea but almost a possible reality...

But there was one saving grace: Malcolm’s pride.

“Then we wait. Malcolm would want to be the one to activate it. This is, after all, his life’s work.”

Frank nodded. “Then we wait.”

“Yes.”

Her old friend left her shortly after. She knew he worried most of all about looking suspicious. It was not an unwise fear to have. They were balanced precariously now, with lives on either side.

The plans for Malcolm’s Undertaking would have to continue. If she ever wanted even the slimmest chance of seeing Walter again, she could not afford to show her traitorous colors.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we have another chapter! I'm thinking a lot of people might be excited by one particular development, so I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Dinah left the Starling City airport with her suitcase rolling behind her, a small bout of nerves starting to grow. It had been so long since she’d been here, she almost didn’t recognize the place. And she worried perhaps the people wouldn’t recognize her.

But she had news, urgent news. And she needed help. Maybe once Sara was back home safe and sound, everything would be alright.

She had Laurel’s address written on a little post-it note. The sticky part on the back had long worn out, but she’d managed to hang onto it all these years. Every so often on a birthday or Christmas, she took it out and considered… but it would have been too late, she had always reasoned. Her daughter would have wondered why she had decided to reach out at that moment. Well, now she did have a reason.

She took the elevator up to the third floor and rolled her suitcase all the way down the hall, knocking on the door at the end. Dinah drew in a deep breath as she waited, hearing footsteps approach.

A young man in a shirt and tie answered the door. “Hello?”

Dinah’s greeting caught in her throat, unsure of what to do. Was this a friend of Laurel’s? More than a friend?

“Tim, who is it?” A young woman’s voice called out. A young woman who was decidedly not her daughter.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong address,” she stated before Tim could answer. “I’m visiting family.”

“Oh. Well, if you need a directory or something—”

“No, that’s alright.” Dinah gripped the handle of her suitcase and took a step back. “I’ll be fine.”

She turned and left the building. With great reluctance, she directed her feet towards the precinct. She’d been hoping to speak to Laurel before Quentin, but if needs must then they must.

Dinah wasn’t surprised to find him working. He always was. She found him with his head buried in a file, only a little worse for wear than when she’d last seen him.

“Just a minute,” he said with a vague wave in her direction.

“That’s alright,” Dinah replied and watched as he froze before looking up at her.

“Dinah. What- what are you doing here?” He was staring at her like she was a ghost, and he stood slowly, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well, it’s about Sara. And about Laurel, I suppose,” she added with a shrug. “Do you know where I can find her? I tried her old apartment, but she seems to have moved out.”

“Yeah, she did that about a month ago,” Quentin told her. “Look, I’ll give you the address, but I better go over there with you. It’s in the Glades.”

“The Glades?” Even when she’d been living in Starling, the Glades hadn’t been the nicest place to find yourself. From the few news stories she’d read at times while feeling nostalgic, that had only gotten worse. “What is she doing there?”

Quentin sighed and grabbed his keys. “I’ll explain on the way.”

He started with the appearance of the vigilante known as the Hood, how he’d reached out to Laurel and how their daughter had supported him. The botched attempt at bringing him in that had resulted in Laurel’s name becoming attached to the Hood and how she’d been forced to choose between him and her job. Laurel’s subsequent fall from grace.

Even listening to the explanation, it was hard for her to grasp. “Quentin, how could this happen?”

“Well, it did. And don’t look at me like that. At least I was here.”

Dinah stared down at her lap. His words were only so biting because they were true. But he didn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to stay. None of them could.

He slowed down as they turned onto a narrow street with cars parked up both sides. “Well, which one is it?”

“I’m looking.” He stopped peering out the window to glance back at her sheepishly. “We, uh, got into it a bit, and I haven’t been over yet. But we’re patching things up.”

Dinah said nothing. She couldn’t exactly criticize him. And if both her ex-husband and daughter were in forgiving moods already, perhaps that was for the better.

He finally picked a spot to parallel park in and they both got out. A dog was barking somewhere off in the distance, and loud music echoed out of a window down the street.

Quentin knocked on the door. When it opened, Dinah couldn’t hold in a gasp.

Five years was five years, yet still they had not prepared her for the differences in her daughter. Laurel’s eyes jumped from Quentin to Dinah, widening for a moment and then narrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Quentin raised his hands up. “Look, this wasn’t me. She came to the station and asked to see you.”

Dinah stepped forward, one hand reaching out. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Laurel drew back before she could quite touch the strands. “So have you.”

Dinah let her arm fall. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Would it be alright if your father and I came in?”

Laurel shrugged and stepped back. They followed her into a tiny living room that was separated from the kitchen only by a pillar with a counter branching out of one side of it. There was a couch and little else in the way of furniture. A hallway that barely fit one person held two doors; presumably bedroom and bathroom.

“Well, it’s… it’s efficient,” she remarked with a smile she hoped didn’t look too forced.

“It’s affordable,” Laurel said bluntly. “But I don’t think you’re here to inspect my living conditions, mom. You didn’t care to for the last five years.”

Dinah looked down. “Yes, I know. But I have something to tell you both, and it’s important.”

Both father and daughter had their arms crossed, staring her down. They’d always been so alike. Dinah squared her shoulders and gathered her breath. “I think Sara’s still alive.”

Quentin’s mouth dropped open. “You- how? You’ve heard from her?”

“No, but I believe she survived.”

Laurel didn’t look the least bit convinced. “If Sara survived the shipwreck, Oliver would have said so.”

“He might not know. I’ve done research. There are countless small islands in the North China Sea that she could’ve washed up on and found food, shelter.”

“What makes you so sure she did?” Quentin asked.

Dinah pulled out her trump card. “There’s a photo of an unidentified girl in the same region. Quentin, look at the hat.” She held the photo out to him and watched his expression turn first incredulous and then hopeful. “It’s just like the one you bought Sara.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” he agreed softly.

“Yes, because it’s the official Rockets baseball cap sold in countless stores in the city and the stadium,” Laurel pointed out. They both looked up at her frowning face. “Let’s say Sara did make it off the _Gambit_ alive. How did she hang onto a _hat_ for five years and keep it in that good of condition?”

“There’s no proof that she couldn’t have,” Dinah pointed out, her voice far more feeble than she wanted it.

“Then take it to the authorities or the embassies. I don’t know why you’d bring it to me.” Her daughter turned and made as if to settle on the couch.

“Because this is about our family, Laurel,” Dinah snapped. “I know what Sara did hurt you, but don’t you care?”

Laurel stopped on a dime and spun around. “You’re asking if I care about this family? Our family died the same night Sara did. And not just because of that, but because of everything you didn’t do after.” Dinah flinched, yet Laurel continued right on. “Did you ever ask me how I felt? If I was okay? You just left, mom!”

“Honey, come on,” Quentin tried to intercede, but Laurel gave a sharp shake of the head.

“You’ve been chasing a ghost the last five years while dad and I are right here! I’ve been here this whole time, and you didn’t care. And I’m not saying I’m good enough to make up for losing Sara — but I’m… I’m _something,_ aren’t I? Shouldn’t I have been something to you? Something to stay for?” The anger banked by the time she finished, leaving her daughter’s pleading eyes staring at her.

Dinah was at a loss for words for a long moment. “Please, Laurel, I didn’t mean — you and your father have always been so alike. You had each other. I thought you’d be alright. If I’d known that- that something like this—”

She gestured around the cramped space, and her daughter scoffed.

“Believe me, dad has given plenty of lectures.”

“But he has a point. He says you lost your job because you were protecting this- this Hood. You care about him.”

Laurel’s chin raised in defiance. “I care about the good he’s doing for the city.”

Dinah shook her head. “Sweetheart, please. I know what it’s like to feel you need to do something no matter the consequences. No matter who gets hurt. Even if it’s you. Sara was doing the same thing.”

Laurel stilled, and Quentin looked up from his close examination of the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Dinah stopped herself. Could she really say this? If it helped Laurel in any way, it stood to reason that she owed it to her after all this time. “I saw her the day she left.”

“What?” The question was Quentin’s, hoarse and disbelieving.

Dinah bowed her head again. “I came home early and she was packing. She told me everything, said she was in love when I asked her not to go. I said she shouldn’t do it to you, Laurel,” she added, taking a step towards her daughter, who backed up in equal measure. “But Sara always followed her heart, just like me. You’re not that way, Laurel. You can stop this.”

Quentin sat on the arm of the couch, his head in his hands. He probably couldn’t bare to look at her.

Laurel couldn’t seem to look away, even as her lip trembled and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I follow my heart?”

Dinah drew back at the iciness in her tone. Laurel took a step back towards her so there were now inches between them.

“What do you think I was following when I agreed to a date with Oliver even knowing his reputation? When I ignored all the texts he must have been sending to other women? When I took out the lease on my old apartment thinking I’d be sharing it with another person? Did you and Sara forget that I loved him, too, or did it just not matter?”

Dinah backed up until she bumped into some shelving set in the wall, but Laurel wasn’t done. It seemed she’d unwittingly broken a dam holding five years of questions and accusations at bay.

“I follow my heart plenty of other places, too, you know? Like to the bars, to drag my father home since he can’t make it back by himself even while he’s wishing I was the one in the ocean instead of Sara. Or when I _did_ work at CNRI, because God knows I wasn’t following a paycheck!” Laurel breathed in and out once harshly, her hands going up to her temples. To Dinah, it looked like she wanted to scream.

“Laurel, I- I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

Laurel let out a bitter laugh. “Well, how could you, mom? You weren’t here.” She walked away into the kitchen, but stopped and leaned against the counter to look at them both again. “Look, I have a friend working at the Chinese Embassy. I’ll send dad her information, and you can ask for her help with your photo as a favor to me. But the next time you come over, try calling first. Send a postcard, maybe.”

She pushed off the counter and walked to the back door, slamming it behind her and leaving a complete silence and stillness in the room.

Quentin was staring at the floor, whether out of disgust with her or shame over the things Laurel had said about him, Dinah wasn’t sure. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s, uh… let’s give her some space. You- you got somewhere to stay?”

Dinah shook her head. Laurel’s old apartment had had a spare room and been in a much safer neighborhood. She wasn’t comfortable staying here even if her eldest had offered, but it seemed the polite young lady they had raised was gone, an angry woman who refused to mince her words in her place.

Her ex guided her out the front door with one hand lightly resting on her elbow, as if afraid to touch her fully.

“Well, we’ll find you something,” Quentin said.

Something turned out to be Quentin’s apartment, where she stayed in the guest room at her own insistence. She could see him swallow back the pain and injured pride.

Dinah couldn’t help fearing that Laurel had been right; their family was broken and finding Sara might not be the easy fix she’d hoped it to be.

\---

Laurel paced the small lot behind her home in agitation, heart pounding still. It had been so much of what she’d wanted to say for so long — but what was going to happen now?

She’d only just agreed to try mending fences with her father again. Would he be angry with her for what she’d said? Even if it had been the truth.

And her mother. She’d probably just thrown any chances of reconciliation out the window, but why should it be up to her to make amends with a woman who hadn’t bothered to be in her life for five years? She was only here now because of Sara anyway, and she’d likely be gone the minute she found out one way or the other if Sara was alive. If her sister was really alive, maybe her dad would leave, too. The three of them could get along happily being a family together without her.

Laurel had told Oliver once that she was nobody in Starling City now that she’d lost her job as a lawyer to make trouble. He’d disagreed, but the proof was in her sitting room that she had always been a nobody. To the people that should’ve mattered, anyway.

Laurel had always hoped Sara just hadn’t been thinking about her when she got on the boat. That she’d simply been caught up in the euphoria. But to know that their mother had directly appealed to her however briefly on Laurel’s behalf, and that Sara had just ignored that?

God, she’d _defended_ her sister from bullies in school who’d accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends, only for her sister to turn around and do it to her. And it took two, she knew that. But had Sara even felt a sliver of guilt over it all?

She had so many questions for a sister she would never get the answers from. In some ways, like her mother, she was haunted by ghosts.

“Laurel?”

She looked up and to her left. Anita was standing out on the tiny back patio she and Jerome had, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey. Um, what’s up?”

“Heard some shouting. Was kind of impressed you were managing to have a domestic with only one person.”

Laurel grimaced. “I wasn’t alone. My parents decided to drop by unannounced.”

“Ah, family.” Her neighbor nodded, then gestured her over with an arm. “Feel free to hide out here. We can work on your sewing some more.”

Laurel glanced at her back door once before walking across. “You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, Jerome’s out with some friends. I was meeting some of the Salon girls for drinks later, but Izzy’s son came down with something, and it just sort of fell through. You know, canceling plans feels almost better than making them.”

Laurel nodded. “I was always more of a ‘don’t make any plans in the first place’ kind of girl.”

Anita hummed as she got down two glasses from her kitchen cabinet, then grabbed a bottle of red out of the fridge.

“I found some fabric I thought we could add to the inside of one of your jackets. Make it more fun.” She passed Laurel one glass and set hers and the bottle down before rummaging in her supplies. “See, it’s got flowers!”

Laurel felt herself smile. “Yeah. They look like some kind of hibiscus.” It was hard to tell what kind since they were white lines against a hot pink background, but she was getting better at picking out the shapes at least.

They settled on the floor of the sitting room with their wine and their respective work. Laurel could see why Anita did so much sewing. It sort of demanded a concentration that allowed someone to tune out whatever they didn’t want to think about.

Though, halfway through their cups, Anita did ask, “So, is everything gonna be okay after your fight?”

Laurel sighed. “I guess. It’ll probably just go back to the way it was, unless they miraculously do find Sara — my sister.”

Anita nodded. “The girl on the boat? I remember they talked about her on the news when billionaire boy came back.”

“Yeah. Well, because he came back, my mom’s convinced Sara’s still out there, too, and came to us after five years of no contact asking for our help. I… kind of let her have it.”

“I’d hope so. What, she never even called? Checked in?”

Laurel shook her head before finishing off her drink. She held her glass out and Anita refilled it. “But she had plenty to say about my current situation.”

“They always do.”

“And who is she to come in after all these years and judge? Apparently she just assumed I’d be fine. Well, she didn’t do anything to make sure I would be.”

“Something tells me you haven’t been fine for a long time,” Anita observed, and Laurel paused in her next stitch.

“You know, of all the people in my life, I think you’re the first person who’s ever guessed that.”

“You should’ve got yourself therapy while you still had the insurance coverage, hon.”

Laurel met Anita’s eyes and snorted. Her friend soon started laughing with her. They kept laughing until Laurel’s sides hurt and she started listing to the side a little.

She calmed down with a few deep breaths and said. “Well, it’s too late for that, but this helps.”

“Good.”

They each pulled their work back towards them and began anew.

She stayed later than she’d meant to at Anita’s and between the two of them they finished a bottle of wine. As a result, Laurel woke up later than she intended, groggy and hungry. Opening her fridge made her aware that she’d run out of milk which meant no scrambled eggs, one of the few dishes she was starting to perfect.

It’d be easier to run down and grab a breakfast sandwich from Sammy’s, but it’d be cheaper in the long run to get the milk and be able to make herself breakfast for the next week. With a sigh, Laurel shoved her feet in her shoes and left her apartment.

As Laurel approached the corner store she heard the staccato of a hammer hitting a nail. To her growing confusion, as she walked around, she spotted the shopkeeper nailing boards to the windows on the side.

“Mr. Khan?”

“Ah, Laurel!” The man straightened up and wiped his hands on his apron. He hurried inside and she followed him to the counter as he asked, “What can I get for you?”

“I’m just grabbing some milk. Is everything okay?”

“I hope it will be. That’s all I can do, hope,” he replied with a sigh. “The gangs have been getting worse since all the business with Bertinelli and the Triad. Yesterday, a couple of young men came in here asking for a protection fee.”

“They’re trying to start a racket?” Laurel asked with a frown.

“Seems that way. They tell me I have twenty-four hours to come up with the fee.” He wrung his hands in his apron and smiled ruefully. “I’m barely covering my overhead, and they expect me to have more money.”

“Did you try the police?”

“There’s no evidence of a crime, they said. So they want me to wait for these boys to come and destroy my store.”

Laurel shook her head, disgusted. It was so typical of everything going on. And everything she had resolved to help stop the other night.

She turned away from the counter, thinking it over as she retrieved the milk from the cooler. “Mr. Khan, did they say what time they’d be here?”

“Night. But I’ll be closing early. I do not want anyone hurt. I’m glad you came by today in the daytime.”

“Me too.” She wouldn’t have known anything about it otherwise. Laurel took her change and receipt as he handed them to her, then grabbed the jug as well. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Laurel quick-marched home. As it stood to her mind, she had three options: try reaching out to her father to see if he could persuade a couple officers to change their beat for the night, call Oliver and hope he was willing to suit up so soon after what happened to Mr. Merlyn, or take care of things herself. Which was what she had decided she was going to do, wasn’t it?

Laurel put the milk away and went back into her room, searching through her closet. What could she use to cover up? Some hats, a couple hoodies, a ski mask from back when she used to accompany Oliver and Tommy to Aspen.

Oliver had made do with a ski mask before. Why couldn’t she do the same?

It wouldn’t be enough to just threaten them into going away. Laurel needed weapons. She had a baseball bat and her fists. Maybe not the best odds, but it was better than nothing. And bringing her own gun would be tantamount to just leaving her ID there for the police to find. If the police even bothered to show up.

The sun sank lower in the sky as Laurel paced her apartment like some kind of caged animal. Could she do it? If she did, was it just proof she’d really lost it?

If she did nothing, Mr. Khan could lose everything. It was that thought that finally pushed her out of her door.

She came around from the side of the store, trying to stay out of the lamplight as she pulled the ski mask down over her face. There was no one out front.

Just as she started to lose her nerve again, she picked up the sounds of laughter and loud talking. Four young men with rocks and bricks came down the street, making no secret of their approach.

If she hesitated, they’d start throwing their projectiles. Laurel drew in a breath, pushed away from the wall, and stepped around the corner. The men gradually slowed to a stop as they caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

They stared at her for a minute or so, a couple sniggers breaking out.

“What’s your deal, lady?” One called out.

“My deal is that you’re attacking an innocent man’s livelihood to extort him for your own gain. That’s a crime at the state level.”

None of them seemed to know what to do with that.

“So what?”

She raised the bat meaningfully. That got loud guffaws of laughter for her trouble.

“Khan too cheap to call the Hood for help?”

“I’m not here for anyone but myself.” Her voice and limbs remained steady, but underneath that her heart was hammering so loudly she didn’t know how they all couldn’t hear it. Was she really going to do this? Assault someone in an act that decidedly couldn’t be called self defense?

A rock was thrown, and Laurel ducked on instinct. It smashed against the wall of the shop, narrowly missing a window. She swore under her breath. This wasn’t about keeping herself safe.

A man walked up to her in a swaggering manner, clearly not taking her seriously. Laurel screwed up her nerves and struck him in the chest with the bat.

He staggered back with a yell. She adjusted her hold on the bat, feeling the pulse of her heart in her ears as she readied herself the meet the others now running towards her.

It was a flurry of swings and kicks, everything she remembered from self defense and everything she’d learned from Ted the past few weeks. Like Sara’s old bullies, these boys didn’t have a refined fighting form; they had strength and size on their side. Laurel couldn’t do much about her height, but she’d gotten plenty stronger since her school days.

She was struck in the back and nearly dropped her bat but managed to keep her grip. Laurel growled in the back of her throat, whirling around and swinging it into her attacker’s gut. He grunted and fell back. 

One of them tried to grab for her ski mask, and she elbowed him in the face. The other two backed up as he fell and she raised the bat again.

“Still think this is worth it?” Laurel asked.

“She’s crazy!”

“Bitch!”

Laurel took great, heaving breaths as she watched them all stagger and run away into the night. The inside of the ski mask was damp with condensation, and her back was starting to throb with a dull pain — but she felt exhilarated.

She’d done it. She’d really done it. Protected this shop all on her own. No one had even had to die.

She held in the impulse to squeal and placed a hand to her back when it gave a particularly painful twinge. She was going to need to stop by Mr. Khan’s tomorrow for some over-the-counter pain meds.

But as far as she was concerned, worth it? Oh, yeah.

\---

She didn’t show up the next two days and when she did, it was with a limp she was trying her best to disguise.

“Rough night?” Ted asked as he passed by her at the punching bag. 

Laurel nodded. “Tripped over a curb coming home. Didn’t see it in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.” He kept walking but didn’t really move on.

Ted watched his student with a careful eye. There was something different, alright. A part of him was afraid to look into what it was; a part of him thought he already knew the answer.

And if he did, what could he do about it? He wasn’t the type to call the cops on his students, and anyway if he did what was to stop them thinking he had something to do with it? He’d been let off before, but Ted knew his past wasn’t as distant as he might like.

People got into fights all the time. It didn’t have to mean anything. Even if he could see the gleam in her eye, the spring to her step in spite of the injury. Even if he knew in his heart this wasn’t going to be a one-time occurrence.

But there’d been nothing in the news yet. No reason for him to think anything of it. He’d just have to keep watching and be ready to intervene sooner this time, if she went the same way Isaac did.

God, he hoped not. Because despite his current misgivings, he liked this girl.

\---

Oliver kept on with his mission. He had to. Not only was it his father’s dying wish, but if he stopped now people might suspect it had something to do with Mr. Merlyn’s condition. That somehow, he meant something more to the Hood than just a person he hadn’t managed to save from the corruption of this city.

He went back to the list, going tougher on the billionaires and their lackeys that held his city in a chokehold than ever before. 

That meant less time at home. As always, Digg had some objections.

“Don’t you think you should take an early day sometime, Oliver? Check in with your family?”

“Thea and my mother are as fine as they will be,” he replied in the middle of a workout. It was his mother he was trying to avoid more than his sister, truth be told.

“And what about you?”

“I’m fine. I see people. I just had lunch with Laurel the other day.”

“So the one person you’re supposed to be keeping your distance from for appearances sake, you’ve been hanging out with.”

Oliver shrugged helplessly.

“You taking McKenna out anytime soon?”

He shook his head. “We talked over the phone yesterday. Decided to call it quits. She’s busy, I’m…”

“The reason she’s busy,” Diggle finished.

“Yeah, and that was probably a sign it wasn’t going to last.” He gave up on the workout and turned to face his friend. “Look, I know you worry about me, John, but this is how things have to be for now.”

They both looked up at the ceiling at the sound of yelling. It wasn’t totally abnormal for Tommy to raise his voice with the contractors, but he thought he recognized the second voice as well. Oliver sighed.

“It never rains but it pours,” Digg remarked.

“I’ll be right back.” Oliver took the stairs two at a time and slipped into the back of the club. Sure enough, it was his sister he’d been hearing.

“So? I’ve been arrested, Tommy. Does that mean I couldn’t get hired here?”

“No, of course not.”

“So what separates my crimes from his?” Thea demanded. “Is it cause I’m rich enough and connected enough that I got off with community service instead of juvie?”

“No!”

Oliver stepped forward to make his presence known. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Thea whirled around as Tommy gave a put upon sigh. “Speedy here wants me to give one of the troublemakers she calls friends a job at the club.”

“Roy’s not one of my old friends,” Thea said when Oliver raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t do drugs. He just has a bit of a reputation.”

“Yeah, with the police,” Tommy added.

“You try living by yourself in the Glades from childhood and not having a record with the police,” Thea shot back.

“There are programs!” Tommy stated, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Charities, donation drives, ways for people without means to get what they need. You literally volunteer at a legal aid office for people without money, Thea.”

“And you should see all the people we still don’t help,” Thea remarked while crossing her arms.

“I can see you’re still talking to Laurel,” Tommy returned with a grin that wasn’t the least bit kind.

“So what if I am?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “You know, on the island, I didn’t have any money.” He didn’t miss the way both Thea and Tommy’s eyes widened at the mention of Lian Yu. “And there wasn’t anywhere to pay for anything. You had to just take what you needed.”

“Yeah, well that’s- that’s different, Ollie,” Tommy excused him. “You had to do what you needed to survive.”

“Exactly. No matter where they are, people are going to do what they have to to survive.”

He noticed Thea’s lips curve up in a smile.

“The least we can do is give them a chance to try a better way, Tommy. I’m not saying put him in charge of the register. But if this Roy is serious about wanting honest work, then he can start as a busser.”

“You really mean that, Ollie?” Thea asked.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

She hurried to him and gave him a tight hug, then headed for the door. “Great! Thank you so much. I’m gonna go tell Roy right now!”

Oliver smiled after his sister, then turned to look back at Tommy who seemed far more subdued. “Sorry. I know hiring is your area.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your club,” his friend remarked. He looked up and said. “Which is why I have to resign.”

Oliver reeled back a little in shock. “What?”

“It’s not anything to do with you,” Tommy assured him with a wave of his hand. “Just… Merlyn Global.”

“You’re going to start at the company?” He tried to keep the shock out of his voice. Tommy had never expressed any interest in joining the corporate giant.

But his friend nodded. “With my father in the hospital, I need to start learning more about the company. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me in giving me this job, Ollie. It’s taught me a lot.”

“Well, hopefully it’s taught you enough to get a good start there.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No. I should have realized this was something you needed to do.” He took a couple steps to close the distance between them and reached out to Tommy’s shoulder. “Your dad would be really proud to know you’re continuing his legacy.”

A brief smile flitted across Tommy’s lips. “Let’s hope I actually can.”

They both moved in for a hug. Tommy held on just as tightly as him. Then with a pat on the back apiece, they let go.

“I’ll still see you around,” Tommy promised.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

With that, Oliver was left alone in the club. He walked over to the bar top, where Tommy had clearly been organizing some papers in preparation for him. He’d have to find the time to look through them, and soon.

In some ways, he would sorely miss Tommy’s presence and help around the club. On the other hand, it was hard to be around him right now without the guilt eating away at him. He took the papers into Tommy’s little office at the back and noticed a wilting pot of _alstroemerias_ sitting in the corner.

One thing was for sure. Diggle probably wouldn’t like the fact that yet another person would be in his life less.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people are liking Laurel's early days as Black Canary, because this chapter promises a lot more of that. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

So far, so good, Laurel kept telling herself over the next week. Mr. Khan and his shop remained unharmed, those thugs hadn’t made any reprisals or found her out, and the police hadn’t come knocking on her door. She was in the clear.

But the clear wasn’t good enough. One night wasn’t good enough. If she was going to make any real difference in the Glades, she was going to have to keep on with it.

Time to get serious.

It was hard knowing what to do or how to proceed outside of just saying she would to herself, though. After all, even if she didn’t really want to imitate the Hood in all matters, she had to admit Ollie’s vaunted list gave him an itinerary. The best she could hope for would be to wander around and wait for crime to happen. Not that that was a far-fetched prospect in the Glades.

But she couldn’t just stand around at night in a ski mask, either. That would give people the opposite idea of what she was going for. So then, maybe some updates to her look were in order.

She reflected on this as she entered the thrift store. Ostensibly, she was grabbing some things for the approaching warmer weather, but she wasn’t above browsing around for ideas. Was a scarf too Western? Would it fall off too easily?

Beside the clearance racks where she’d picked out a new shirt was a small bin labeled “free”. Maybe she wasn’t absolutely destitute, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a look through.

Most of it was clothes that were completely out of season, not to mention fashion. A toy car that was missing one wheel and a few ugly patterned scarves were also in amongst the clutter.

Her thumb snagged an elastic band and she pulled out a black domino mask. Probably discarded from some Halloween costume. Laurel studied it for a moment, then slowly lifted it towards her face.

It’d be less sweaty, and easier to breathe in. Cheap as this one was. Maybe it’d be better to save up and make her own. She’d continued practicing hand-sewing during the slow hours at work, in the event that she might develop small holes or tears in her clothes that could be patched up instead of thrown away. And hand-stitching had other uses considering what she was planning.

Laurel left the mask in the bin and took her other purchases up to the register, mind still racing with ideas.

She’d need more than a mask to conceal her identity. But she didn’t want a hood. If she was doing this, she didn’t want to be seen as only some lackey of Oliver’s. This was her own mission, her own way.

A head covering in general would limit her visibility plus make her stand out pretty readily. She needed something discreet. Laurel didn’t have fancy arrows with lines attached that could pull her up the side of a building in moments. She had to be able to make a getaway, even in a crowd.

She needed to look like a woman.

It was so simple when it hit her. So long as she could be any woman — just some woman, with great hair and a body — they would never bother to see past the mask. She just had to not look like herself too much, that was the key. Dye was too permanent; a wig would disguise her hair better.

Over the next week she made the necessary purchases, each at a different shop and in cash. The important thing was not to let it be traced back to her.

As for weapons, she looked into something she could carry on her person. A baseball bat was way too conspicuous for a woman in her twenties to be walking around with. Eventually, she was drawn to a collapsible bo staff. She’d seen staffs hanging on the wall at the Wildcat Gym and knew Oliver used them for sparring practice with Mr. Diggle. It was a weapon she felt comfortable using with some practice, which she nudged a reluctant Ted into.

“I just want to try different things, you know?” She’d said with a casual shrug. “No point getting pigeon-holed.” Losing her job as a lawyer and realizing she had no real backup plan had taught her that the hard way.

She went out the first night she got all her gear together, knowing if she hesitated that she would find a way to talk herself out of it. The long hair of the wig swishing around her shoulders was a familiar weight. With her hands shoved in her jacket pockets — one hand over the staff and one hand over the mask, she walked around, watching and waiting.

Only she didn’t really find anything, other than a few catcalls. The next day, she saw there had been a reported mugging halfway across the Glades from where she’d staked out.

It was like this over the next few nights. She wasn’t where she needed to be or she’d get there just after she was needed. It occurred to her that this was probably why Oliver tended to stick to his list; it was full of ongoing problems he could investigate and then decide to attack in his own time.

She didn’t have the luxury of a base of operations or the ability to get into and out of high rises safely, though. And she wanted to be on the ground, handling the problems Jerome and Mrs. Ross had talked about. The problems she saw every day. She’d just have to get lucky.

The next night, she did.

The only gas station in the Glades was hit up for a robbery just as she was passing by. Laurel caught the flash of a gun out of the corner of her eye through the store window and quickly ran to the wall, flattening herself against it to get a better look. Two men, one pointing the gun and the other shoveling money from the register into a bag. They weren’t even bothering with ski masks, just hats pulled over their hair and jacket collars popped.

She glanced up at the security camera pointed at the front door. Its light was off. It wasn’t on, or perhaps it had never been plugged in.

Laurel got out her mask and extended the staff.

The door banged open as she stood and landed a hit low on the first man’s legs just as he ran out. He toppled over, his face smacking into the pavement. His partner in crime stumbled over him right into her fist, falling back against the wall. Laurel wrenched the gun out of his fingers and took note of the safety. Still on. The clip was empty. She shook her head.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy on the ground spat. There was blood on his lip.

“Just someone in the neighborhood.”

With two hits of her staff, they were both knocked unconscious. She picked up the bag of cash, opened the door again, and tossed it towards the counter at the clerk, who was watching with wide eyes. Laurel didn’t wait for a response, knowing her priority was now to get as far away from the scene as possible.

Her heart pumped with adrenaline as she fled several streets away, a wide grin stretched over her lips. She had done it, and it still felt great. What did a few boring nights matter if every so often she could manage something like this?

Of course, it began to take a toll on her schedule. She woke up later, didn’t have near as much time before work to get her day started. She saw the few friends she had less.

Joanna took it the hardest. “I’m not gonna see you at work when I go back, Laurel. And sorry, but you don’t have the excuse of being too busy to have a social life anymore. So do you just not want to be friends?”

“It’s not that, Jo. Never. I’m just… trying to work out some things. Figure out where my life’s going.”

Her friend had scoffed over the line. “Well let me know if I’m still in it.” She’d hung up shortly after.

It was easier now to see things from Oliver’s point of view; how he’d tried to maintain relationships without letting slip what was really going on in his life. It made her miss him fiercely.

They hadn’t talked much since after Mr. Merlyn’s hospitalization. Ostensibly, they still weren’t supposed to be friends, after all. And Laurel hesitated to reach out to him about her new nighttime activities; something told her he wouldn’t approve.

Well, that wasn’t Ollie’s job to approve or not, so it was simply better for the both of them if she kept it to herself. He had enough on his plate seeing as the Hood was still going out at nights, taking on the elites in this city.

She was just doing her part where she could, making sure the people he was trying to help got that help sooner rather than later. It was his upbringing, she knew, that caused him to see things the way he did. The big picture instead of the small.

Laurel would aim to improve things from the bottom up while he continued to work from the top down. Maybe they’d meet somewhere in the middle someday.

She did her best to brush aside that sort of wishful thinking. It would be silly to think after everything that there was any sort of future for them. She didn’t even know what future there was for herself.

But as long as she could do something good, she would keep going.

\---

Anita was starting to wonder if her _Avó_ had been right about coming to live in Brazil. These past few months in Starling had been crazy.

It wasn’t as if she hated it at _Avó’s_ either. She loved the cooking, loved the weather, loved the language. The only trouble would be, as always, money. Jerome wasn’t near fluent enough in Portuguese to find good work, and she couldn’t be too sure of it herself. They were just getting by in the States, and as long as that was enough for them she’d be happy to stay.

She’d gotten lucky. While other girls had been chasing after gangbangers and potheads in school, her Jerome had gotten a job to support him and his grandma. He’d always been the responsible type.

His grandma had passed three years ago, and the medical bills and funeral arrangements had put a strain on their finances, enough to convince them to sell the old house to a developer and start renting. A real estate agent had assured them the Glades was going to start gentrifying and that they’d be able to get a good price.

Only the sale hadn’t yielded as much as they’d hoped, so they’d remained stuck in the Glades instead of moving to a better, safer neighborhood. It didn’t bother her so much right now. But in a few years when they might have kids on the way? She wanted them going to good schools, not the poor excuse for school she and Jerome had attended.

They did their best to save, but there was always something coming down the pipe they weren’t expecting. At least they didn’t have a car. The repairs would be killer.

There was always crazy stuff going on in Starling City these days, too. Ever since some guy had decided to become a souped up Robin Hood last fall and take out his anger issues on a bunch of rich folks. As long as he kept it to them, Anita didn’t mind so much. For the first several weeks or so, it had created a buzz of conversation through the neighborhood. This guy was trying to change things, maybe. And in some cases he did. Here or there, people got their money back.

But the wealthy were good at consolidating what they had. Companies transferred from corrupt CEOs to corrupt board rooms, money disappeared before it could be returned to the right owners. And this guy liked to drop bodies. That part, Anita wasn’t so keen on.

Because there were people getting more violent in the Glades now, too. Drug dealers, young and angry men unsupervised by the old mob hierarchy. This Hood didn’t seem to have a backup plan for any of that.

Jerome was frustrated by it far more than she was. “I mean, did we ask this guy to come here and fight for us? Stir up trouble? Did he come talk to any of us, see what we wanted?”

“No, he didn’t,” she dutifully agreed before bringing out both their dinners. She kissed him on the cheek as she went around him. “But it’d be hard for him to ask around without giving the game away, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jerome dug into his food and there was quiet from his end of the table for a while. “You know, the guys are saying there’s some woman out there now.”

“A woman?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, good for her.”

He grinned. “You like that? They’re saying she’s a real, how’s it go — right, _gata._ ”

Anita arched an eyebrow. “You gonna leave me for her?”

He kept grinning. “Never, baby, you know me better than that.”

“Then she can be as good-looking as she wants.” Anita pushed her plate aside and came over to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

At work, she started hearing the rumors, too, over the next few days. “Nobody knows where she came from,” said Lanh in hushed excitement as they stood one sink apart. “But she gave a man following my roommate home a black eye the other night.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

No killing, dealing with stuff in the neighborhood. It was like someone had come in and asked around or sat in on their talks, then decided to make all their wishes and hopes come true in the form of a lady in black leather. Seemed crazy, but that was life now.

She stopped by next door to see Laurel, wanting to get her opinion. After all, wasn’t she here because of her support for vigilantism in the first place?

Only when her neighbor answered the door, it was clear she’d only just finished stitching up a nasty cut on her arm.

“Ooh, honey, what happened?”

“Just a work accident. Shears, you know?” Laurel let her in and hurriedly cleared up some bloodied napkins. “What’s up?”

Anita decided to leave her questioning behind. “Just wanted to see if you were free. We should have a night out, you know?”

“Okay, your place or mine?”

Anita waved a hand. “I was thinking a little more exciting than that. They’re saying the Verdant’s finally opening.”

Laurel raised both eyebrows. “Are they?”

“Mm-hm. Wanna check it out?”

“I don’t know…”

She leaned over the counter towards her friend. “Come on. Nights in only feel better if you go out sometimes, too. Variety’s the spice of life.”

“It’s going to be packed,” Laurel pointed out. “We’d be lucky to wait in line for three hours before getting in.”

“Couple of good looking girls like us?” Anita grinned. “Besides, you know the owner.”

Her friend shook her head. “Oliver and I aren’t that close anymore.”

“Right, which is why you call him Oliver and not ‘Queen’ or ‘my cheating bastard of an ex’,” said Anita. “Come on, billionaire boy owes you a million favors, so why not call one in? It’ll be fun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

She watched Laurel debate it for a few minutes. “Alright. But if he says no, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He said yes, clearly, because Laurel sent her a text that afternoon saying what time they should be there. No mention of a cover fee either, which was interesting. She’d have to meet billionaire boy herself to be sure, but if Anita’s intuition was any good, she’d say Oliver Queen was still pining away for her neighbor despite his cheating past. So Anita would be happy to drink his booze and help her friend kick him to the curb if need be.

They walked to the Verdant together, skipping the line entirely by going through a back door Laurel had been told about. A man just about shorter than Jerome but beefier greeted them inside. “Laurel.”

“Mr. Diggle. This is my neighbor, Anita.”

He nodded to her. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“You too. Swanky place,” she said, getting a good look around as she took steps further in. The bass was already vibrating in her bones.

“Um, if you could pass on our thanks to Oliver. I’m sure he’s very busy tonight,” Laurel was saying.

“I’m sure once he’s finished showing his family the place that he’ll be making the time. Mr. Queen’s been doing some re-evaluating lately. But I’ll let you enjoy your evening.”

“Re-evaluating?” Anita asked as they left the man to head out onto the main floor.

Laurel shook her head. “Let’s not get into that. I think our first drinks are on the house.”

The drinks were excellent, it turned out. Here and there they met a scant few familiar faces, and Anita introduced Laurel to them. She couldn’t help noticing that most of the patrons clearly weren’t from around here; too many Rolexes and real jewels on wrists. Looked like the gentrification had finally begun.

“I’m going to get us another round,” she spoke loudly into Laurel’s ear. Tonight wasn’t for thinking those kinds of things. It was for just letting loose and pretending life wasn’t so crap sometimes.

As Anita returned with the drinks, her pace slowed. There was a woman with dark hair standing behind her friend and gripping Laurel’s arm tightly. Anita ducked around a couple chattering away to get closer without drawing attention to herself.

To her surprise, Laurel seemed to recognize this stranger. “Helena?”

“Laurel, good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you,” said the woman.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing personal, but I heard about your fall from grace. Must’ve stung when you realized Oliver wasn’t really there for you. He never is.”

“Let me go, Helena.”

“Sorry, but you’re my insurance policy. We’re going downstairs to wait for Oliver, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come quietly.”

Anita had just about heard enough. She looked around frantically for the security — they were either at the doors or far against the walls and couldn’t see them out here in the throng of people. So she did the next thing she thought of.

“Hey!”

The woman turned towards her direction just in time for Anita’s drink to splash in her face. She staggered back, gasping in shock.

And that was when Laurel sprang into action.

Anita had been planning to take her friend’s arm and run for it, but Laurel’s arms were moving and the woman was down on the floor in seconds, her arms pinned behind her back. She kicked out with both feet, heel gouging Laurel’s leg. Laurel gave a grunt that was only barely heard over the music, sitting on the woman’s thigh hard.

“Hey!”

“What the—”

“Is it a fight?”

“Yeah! Awesome!”

There was a small crowd growing around them, and Anita felt herself pressed between people on either side. Laurel’s arm bore long scratches while she held the woman’s head in a lock Anita could swear she’d never seen outside WWE.

“Excuse me! What’s going on here?”

Anita’s eyes bugged out as suddenly Oliver Queen cut through the crowd on her right. His eyes widened for a moment before he plunged in and grabbed Laurel around the waist, pulling her off the woman. Once she was set down behind him he yanked the other woman up as well, pulling her towards the exit.

The man who let them in before took Laurel’s arm and guided her after them. “Come on, Laurel,” she thought she read off his lips.

Anita rushed after them.

Oliver Queen was shouting at the woman named Helena when they all got outside. “If you ever come after someone I care about again—”

“My father—”

“Is no longer your concern! You do not have any business in Starling, Helena, and you will stay far away from here. Or _else._ ”

Helena’s eyes flashed with anger, but she stalked off into the night.

“Wow,” Anita breathed in the silence. Oliver Queen looked a little surprised and discomforted to find he had an audience.

“Um…”

“Figured it was better for appearance’s sake if both parties caught fighting were escorted out,” Mr. Diggle said.

“And she’s my friend, so I’m sticking with her,” Anita added in explanation.

Oliver Queen nodded before turning to Laurel, one hand touching her arm. “Are you okay?”

Laurel shrugged. “Just fine.”

“What were you thinking?” He asked next. “Helena is dangerous—”

“So I was supposed to let her take me hostage?” Laurel finished for him, eyes narrowing.

“She’s a killer, Laurel.”

Anita’s eyebrows rose at that.

“And I had it taken care of. She was hardly going to kill me if she wanted to take me somewhere.”

The two of them were in each other’s faces, close enough to share the same air. She doubted either of them noticed.

“If something had happened—”

“It didn’t. Can’t you focus on that?”

“But it _could_ have!”

“There’s no point to wondering what could have been, Ollie! Believe me, I’ve tried!” Laurel turned around and started marching away from him, the effect ruined somewhat by a slight limp.

Oliver Queen sighed. “Laurel, wait. Let Digg look at your leg.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Then let me call you a cab. Please.”

Laurel paused, and Anita took the opening. “We’ll take a cab, yeah.”

Laurel fixed her with a frown.

“Honey, you’re bleeding.”

A few minutes later, they were bundled into a cab and leaving the Verdant. What a night out. Jerome was never going to believe this. She’d heard the odd thing here or there since Laurel had moved in and knew of her gym classes, but _damn,_ her friend was a brawler when she wanted to be!

They were halfway home when it hit her. “Shit, that was mob girl, wasn’t it? Huntress or something? She was the one going around whacking her dad’s people.”

Laurel sighed. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then billionaire boy might have a point. Cause they were saying that girl was nuts, you know? Not somebody to get mixed up with.”

“Wasn’t trying to, believe me. But I’m not going to go along and let things happen to me anymore, Anita. That’s not who I am.”

“Probably a good attitude to have in this town. Maybe I should pick Capoeira back up,” she mused.

“Capoeira?”

“Afro-Brazilian fighting style. I took classes after school for a bit, like the Irish girls that do line dancing, you know? There was a place down by our old laundromat. Wonder if it’s still open.”

“We could take a look together. If it’s okay for others to learn,” Laurel added after a moment.

“Sure, but aren’t you busy as it is at that gym?”

Laurel shrugged. “I could make time. And anyway, we’d get to see each other.”

Anita smiled. “Alright, we’ll check it out. But after that leg of yours is better. You’re gonna need it in good condition, believe me.”

They got out in front of Laurel’s and Anita helped her into the house, insisting she help get the leg cleaned up at the least. “You got something to numb that?”

“Not really.”

“Tell me you don’t have work first thing tomorrow.”

“I can manage.”

Anita pushed her hair back. “I mean, what did that bitch want anyway? Why’d she try to take you somewhere?”

Laurel shrugged, her eyes on the floor. “She dated Ollie a few months back.”

“Oh.” Jealous ex to the extreme, then. “You need anything else?”

“No, you should get home.”

“Okay, well just text me, alright? Get plenty of sleep.”

“I will, Anita.” Laurel stiffened when Anita leaned in to hug her. It took a moment for her friend to relax in her arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Anita let herself out so Laurel wouldn’t have to get up right away. The younger woman still seemed a little stunned; she suspected Laurel had been the big sister and minder to so many people over the years that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone looking out for her for a change.

She and Laurel signed up for an intermediate class after they both tested into it; her because of her prior experience and Laurel because she was already quick on her feet. Anita could tell the class was going to kick her butt and complained to Jerome about it for hours as he rubbed her feet after the first lesson.

“Guess someone was a little jealous of that woman in black after all,” he teased.

“Yeah, just you wait. My legs are gonna look fantastic. You’ll be picking your jaw off the floor.”

As the days went on and there were more growing rumors of this woman in the Glades, she felt herself newly inspired. When women looked out for each other, it made the neighborhood all the better.

Though the more she heard and the more she watched Laurel’s determined look in their classes, the more the mysterious woman seemed less like a stranger, and more like someone she knew. Crazy as that sounded.

\---

Quentin had taken to keeping an ear out for crimes in the Glades. It both increased his blood pressure and soothed his nerves, because the amount of criminal activity coming out of there was unheard of. But so far, his daughter hadn’t been mixed up in any of it.

Statistically, he worried it wouldn’t last. But what could he do? He’d raised her to be fiercely independent, and his initial bad reaction when Laurel had perhaps been at her most vulnerable ensured she would never take his charity. He was lucky enough that she was still speaking to him, especially after he’d brought her mother over for a truly appalling attempt at reconnecting.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t blame his estranged wife entirely for what had happened to Sara; it wasn’t as if she could have known what would happen out at sea. Bitterly, it occurred to him that by the same token, he couldn’t blame Queen then, either. Even if the man himself believed it, he hadn’t killed Quentin’s daughter.

Even more distressing, perhaps, was how much and how little Queen and Dinah had done to try and make amends with Laurel respectively. Where Queen had been nothing but repentant, Dinah had given excuses. She hadn’t even seemed to truly grasp what she had done wrong until Laurel had spelled it out to her.

She’d left a couple weeks ago, shaken and doubly discouraged when Laurel’s old friend at the Chinese embassy had confirmed the girl in the picture with the Rockets cap wasn’t their baby girl. Just another young woman who had bought a baseball cap on any ordinary day. He hadn’t given Laurel that news yet; he suspected she’d already guessed.

He picked up and then set aside the photo on his desk with his two girls. In some ways, he felt equally distant to them these days, though he knew he was kidding himself. The damage he’d done to his and Laurel’s relationship was entirely his own doing, not a random act of nature. He should stop wasting the time and make amends.

“Got a situation on 7th and Shane Street,” an officer announced to the bullpen, snapping Quentin out of his reverie. “Might need a couple detectives, cause we’ve got witnesses.”

Quentin stood. “I’ll go.” 7th and Shane was right in the heart of the Glades. He didn’t think it was all that far from that flower shop, come to think of it.

He drove over to find a bus pulled to the side of the road. It didn’t look to be damaged any. The driver and a few passengers stood around, the latter group all waiting for rides. A few men lay on the ground, welts on their faces and black eyes starting to turn into ugly bruises as they were cuffed by the officers. He ducked under the police tape and walked over to the group of witnesses.

“Alright, can anyone tell me how this whole thing started?”

“It was the hijackers,” a man near the back mumbled.

“The what?”

“The hijackers, man.” He was nudged by a woman at his left, probably a girlfriend or wife. She eyed the gun at Quentin’s belt warily. He carefully reached for a notepad and pencil to keep his hands occupied with that.

“And who are these hijackers?”

“They’ve been hitting the buses, usually on payday, sir,” the girlfriend spoke up. “Part of a newer gang.”

“Uh-huh. Was the SCPD informed of this?”

There were murmurings. Everyone too afraid to say yes. He frowned.

“How long ago did this start?”

“Little after the Bertinelli mob fell, sir.”

“It’s been horrible. They take everything you got. Money, jewelry, smartphones. We’re sitting ducks the whole route home!”

There were a bunch of voices shouting at him now, all wanting to be heard. One woman’s voice in particular stuck out amongst the group thanks to its heavy accent; an older woman in a housemaid’s uniform under her coat.

“They wanted my _chotki,_ ” she said, showing them all a black rope with many knots and beads in a few places, tied in a cross at the end. “It is wool and wood, what could they want with that? They were _brutes_. But she saved us.”

“She?” Quentin asked, stepping towards her. He thought he recognized this woman. Wasn’t she one of the Queens’ people?

Scarcely had he thought it before Oliver Queen himself came running up to the yellow tape. “Raisa!”

“Mr. Oliver!”

Just his luck. Quentin headed over as Queen lifted the tape to let Ms. Raisa out. “Just a minute,” he called.

Queen turned back to him. “Detective Lance, I came here to make sure Raisa got home safely. She’s been through enough for one night.”

“She’s not in trouble. I just need her to finish her statement. Now, who is ‘she’?”

Ms. Raisa shrugged. “No one really knows. They call her ‘the woman’.” She smiled warmly. “I believe tonight she was an angel.”

“Right,” he said.

“Was that everything, Detective Lance?” Queen asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Get her home.”

The two of them left, Queen leaning down to ask his housemaid a question Quentin couldn’t hear. He turned back to the group which was gradually starting to disperse. There were no useful additions other than someone saying a woman showed up a few minutes after the hijackers forced the bus to pull over.

The Hood. Now the Woman. Just great. Why had this city all of a sudden decided to go nuts?

He swung by Laurel’s place on his way back to the station and knocked. No one answered after a minute, but the light was on. He knocked again, louder.

“Just a second!” His daughter called out. She wrenched the door open in leggings and a blue tank top. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I visit my daughter?” His bravado covered his nerves, but relief was his primary emotion as she stepped back to let him inside.

“Were you on a call somewhere?”

“Yeah. There’s been some trouble with the bus routes. You don’t ride those often, do you?”

“Just to visit Joanna at her mom’s. Or to get downtown if I needed to.”

“Yeah, well stay off them at night, alright? There’s been gangs hitting them.”

“I know.”

That drew him up short. It occurred to him that these days, Laurel perhaps had an even more advance warning on crime in the Glades than he did. All the more reason to hate this arrangement.

He watched with narrowed eyes as she lowered herself onto her couch with a wince.

“What’s wrong with your back?”

She stiffened and winced again. “Oh, just work. I was lifting a lot of mulch bags today.”

Quentin shook his head. His poor girl had always had a willowy build. She was delicate, even if he’d made sure she knew how to defend herself in a tight spot. “You’re not meant for this kind of work, Laurel. We gotta find you something else.”

“This is doing me fine. Besides, I’m pretty sure to get law work, I’d have to leave Starling.”

“Shouldn’t have discouraged you from taking that corporate job in San Francisco,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she told him. “I’m glad for the help I was able to give people at CNRI and for the help I can hopefully still give people here.”

He sighed. “Hopefully. You know, you can do anything you set your mind to, honey. I really do believe that. But what’s your plan here?”

She smiled. “I’m figuring it out, dad. I promise.”

He left soon after, since he was technically still on the clock at the precinct. Laurel told him she would head to bed shortly to rest up, and he made a note to grab some of those icy hot packs for her at the store. He thought he could play it off like an overdue Christmas present to get her to accept them. Hell, he owed her enough Christmases and birthdays from the last five years he could probably supply her through next March. If she was still breaking her back doing this work by then.

Laurel wasn’t the only one who needed a plan. Quentin had been keeping an eye on Daily in the close to two months since he’d been back on the force. There were no obvious slip ups, but he could just tell there was something off about the man. Call it his gut. Now with this bus hijacking situation having been swept under the rug for as long as it had been, he was starting to wonder just how many of his own people he could trust.

Was it genuine malice or just apathy for a neighborhood that saw enough hard times already? He wasn’t sure which was worse at the end of the day. But it was causing unrest, causing more and more people to turn to alternate means to seek justice.

By the end of the week, they saw an example of the worst of it; some guy in the subway tunnels committing extrajudicial killings and calling himself the Savior. The Hood had been forced to put him down to save the likes of that kid Harper. The Hood at least seemed to understand that vigilantes couldn’t be allowed free reign of this city, even if he continued to operate in it.

So he finally made the call.

Quentin stood out back behind his apartment building, the vigilante phone in his hand. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the precinct when he made this call. Just thinking about if someone caught him in the act — maybe Daily, maybe Hall with her earnest regard for the law — had his hands shaking.

_“Detective?”_

“Yeah, listen, we gotta talk. With everything going on in this city, with the force, I’m having trouble deciding who to trust. Now I don’t trust you,” he wanted to make clear. “But you’re a known quantity. I know what you want, what you’re willing to do.”

_“And how does that help you?”_

“It helps me because I think there’s some people on the force I can’t trust, and I don’t know what they want either.” Could be money, could be they felt threatened, could be they were always rotten. “Now I know you’ve figured out how to spy on us. I need you to tell me who’s on the take.”

_“It’s not something I was concerning myself with.”_

“Well start concerning yourself with it. You want people to stop popping up like this Savior or this Woman, it starts with law enforcement being a trusted and respected institution. You can’t tell me you expect things to magically stay better whenever you finally decide to hang that hood up?”

There was a long pause. _“I’ll look into it, Detective. Keep the phone on you. I’ll call.”_

Then the line went dead. Quentin breathed in and out once and headed back into his building. He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong. He’d simply pointed out an issue the Hood had likely been tangentially aware of and asked him to direct his attention towards it. Whatever happened after… well, maybe he was partly to blame.

Would Laurel ever call him a hypocrite if she found out about this or what?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience over the weeks as this story gets updated one chapter at a time. I'm thrilled you all have been enjoying Laurel's journey into becoming a vigilante. This chapter, we'll see a different character perhaps begin down the path towards the mantle that was intended for him... even if that might not mean good things. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

No matter what he seemed to do at night to counteract the problems plaguing Starling City, Oliver always seemed to end up with a whole host more of them the next day. The unexpected call he had received last night from Detective Lance was only the latest proof of that.

The man had a point. What was Oliver’s plan once he had deciphered the true purpose of the Undertaking and put a stop to it? He didn’t want to be doing this forever, not while it kept him away from the people he loved most or hurt them the ways it had done to Laurel or Tommy.

But Laurel and her father were both right that there was more than just the Undertaking troubling this city. Right now, the police couldn’t handle it, maybe because they were corrupted like Lance said. Maybe that was where he needed to direct his focus next.

Or perhaps it would better serve his time to go after this Woman that Lance had mentioned and Raisa had described. Contrary to what the police or the public might think, he did not wish for the city to be overrun with vigilantes like him. He did want the traditional institutions to be able to do their jobs on their own, and well, someday. Stopping others from following in his footsteps was therefore necessary.

But at this moment, the Woman did not pose the same sort of threat that the Savior had to law and order. She had no known body count, made very little noise and these murmured rumors were the first he was hearing of her. And in some ways, she only represented a symptom of the problem Lance was asking for help with regarding the corruption in law enforcement.

It wouldn’t be easy to back trace every single cop in this city. He would need to ask Felicity very nicely for help, assuming that she would be willing since this had little to nothing to do with finding Walter. Though perhaps he should use that as an angle; Walter had been captured and held this long, in part, because law enforcement wasn’t able to do their jobs. He’d run it by John first to see if he thought it might work.

The irony of Lance asking for his help wasn’t lost on him, especially when the detective showed up at the Verdant the next night to accuse his club of giving Vertigo to people. A young woman had been found dead after leaving it last night, and Lance thought, as usual, that he was onto something.

“Her last text was to your good pal Merlyn.”

“Tommy left the club earlier in the month to take over running his father’s company,” Oliver countered with a frown. “Even if he was still the manager, I can’t believe he would have given her anything. We both agreed to a strict no narcotics policy.”

“Then I guess I’ll go see how he still feels about that,” Lance said, marching back out the doors. 

Oliver let out a breath. He was sure Lance would be back once he’d finished questioning Tommy and probably want a look around the place as well. He could tell the detective to go get a warrant, but he didn’t doubt Lance would do just that. So how did he let him look around without him discovering anything?

First thing first, however, Oliver needed to send Tommy a little heads up notice that Lance was on his way. He winced when looking back through his recent contacts and realizing just how long it had been since he’d spoken to his friend.

Tommy picked up after the third ring. _“Hello?”_

“Tommy, it’s me. Listen, I wanted to let you know that Detective Lance might be over your way soon.”

_“What about?”_

“They found a young woman dead from Vertigo after she visited the club last night. Did you get a text from her?”

 _“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been blocking unfamiliar numbers. I’m thinking of changing my own,”_ Tommy said. His voice turned sardonic as he added, _“I guess Lance thinks that’s a good enough reason to give us the third degree?”_

“He’s doing his job,” Oliver replied. Even if Lance was wrong, it wasn’t like he could stop pursuing a possible lead based on Oliver’s word.

_“He’s pushing his agenda is what he’s doing, against the both of us, and I’m sick of letting him get away with it. It doesn’t matter that he’s Laurel’s father — especially now.”_

“I don’t think she meant to hurt you,” he couldn’t help saying, guilt churning in his gut. If he’d never come back, never involved Laurel in the Hood’s mission, would his friends be happy now?

_“Yeah, well she didn’t mean to be with me, either. Look, I don’t really have the time to talk about this. I’m going to have to make a few calls before the boys in blue come sniffing around. I’ll take care of this, Ollie — but I’d get in touch with Jean just in case.”_

Oliver hadn’t even been thinking of his family’s lawyer. If anything, he’d thought to call Laurel for her advice, but it was clear he shouldn’t mention that to Tommy. “Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Oliver tried not to worry about Lance the next day, focused as he and Diggle needed to be on tracing this new supply of Vertigo. Therefore he was surprised and a little nervous to receive a call from none other than Captain Stein, the de facto leader of the SCPD since Nudocerdo’s ouster over the holidays.

 _“Mr. Queen, I’ll do my best to keep this brief,”_ the other man said. _“I’ve received a complaint from Mr. Thomas Merlyn that one of my detectives has been harassing the pair of you.”_

Oliver’s eyebrows raised. What was Tommy doing? “Harassing is a strong word, Captain. I understand that Detective Lance has a job to do.”

 _“Detective Lance always thinks he has a job to do, and frankly I happen to agree that he’s got blinders when it comes to certain issues.”_ Stein didn’t seem to mind making it perfectly clear just what his feelings on the man were. _“Now, I value what you and Mr. Merlyn have done with the Verdant to gentrify the Glades neighborhood, and if there’s anything jeopardizing that, you just have to say the word.”_

“I…” Oliver found himself unsure of what to say. It was clear what Stein was implying: disciplinary action, perhaps even termination, of the man who was leading the task force against the Hood. For one selfish moment, he could picture just how much easier it might make his mission.

But Lance was right. The SCPD _was_ suffering from corruption, and if that was ever going to change so that the city didn’t _need_ the Hood, he needed people like Lance to stay on the force. Not chased off because he was making those upstairs uncomfortable.

And if he lost his job because of Oliver? Not only would his own guilt eat at him, but he couldn’t imagine what Laurel would say. How betrayed she would feel after everything she’d willingly given up for his cause. After everything he had done wrong by the Lance family, how could he even entertain the idea?

“Thank you, Captain,” he finally managed. “But I’m sure that’s not necessary. I’m confident the SCPD will be able to track down the real distributor of this terrible drug that’s caused so much suffering to so many.”

_“I’m hopeful they will now that this case has been transferred to narcotics. I’m also barring Detective Lance from any police matters involving you or Mr. Merlyn from now on.”_

“I see,” was all Oliver could come up with. “Thank you, Captain Stein.”

_“Just making sure we’re taking care of our citizens, Mr. Queen. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting to other matters.”_

“Of course.” Oliver hung up, his mouth twisting into a frown as he digested this latest development. Just as Lance had reached out to the Hood for help in fighting corruption in law enforcement, his own influence and latitude to act was curtailed. It seemed a coincidence, but it also seemed to him a bad omen.

He didn’t know much about Captain Stein, though his overly-eager tone on the phone made him suspicious. He would need to start with looking in to him, and the best place to start would be with the person Oliver knew had talked to him last: Tommy.

He found his friend still in the CEO’s office at Merlyn Global. It was strange being here in light of what had happened the last time.

“Just got a call from Captain Stein,” he said in greeting. Tommy looked up and nodded once, hardly seeming surprised. Instead, his friend walked over to a small mini bar tucked in one corner of the office and got out two glasses and a bottle. “What exactly did you say to him to get him to go after Lance like that?”

“The truth. He’s had it out for us ever since you tangled with his daughters, but we’re not a couple of bad boys anymore, Ollie. We have businesses, employees who count on us. We can’t let him throw his weight around.”

“So we throw our own? What’s Stein getting out of all this?”

“Nothing.” Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You think I bribed him?”

“No,” Oliver said immediately. It sounded weak even to his own ears.

Tommy scoffed and shook his head as he finished pouring. “I didn’t need to bribe him. The special election to replace Nudocerdo is coming up in late spring.”

“So you offered your support,” he guessed.

“Hey, the guy’s clean from everything I know. Why shouldn’t he be commissioner?” Tommy crossed the room with both glasses in hand, holding one out that Oliver took out of social nicety more than wanting it. “And if he feels inclined to keep annoyances like Lance off our backs, what’s the harm?”

“The harm is if it doesn’t stop with voluntarily warding off ‘annoyances’,” Oliver answered. “The problem is that once the favors start rolling in, guys like Stein might find it hard to stay clean.”

Tommy sipped at his drink. “I didn’t hear you complaining when your mom and Walter had Nudocerdo over for their dinners.”

“That wasn’t really my choice.” Oliver set his drink aside, looking his friend squarely in the eye. “Come on, Tommy. I thought we weren’t trying to be our parents. I mean, you always said you never wanted to be your dad.”

“Well, I was wrong. My dad might have had trouble being there for me after mom died, but he understood how the world worked. I should have made better use of the time we had.”

The use of past tense alarmed him. “He’s not—”

“His condition’s the same. But even if they revive him, can he really be the same?” Tommy knocked the rest of his drink back, though Oliver doubted it was the sting of alcohol causing his eyes to brighten with a wet sheen. “He’s all I really have.”

“That’s not true.” Oliver stepped forward, but the hand he’d intended to lay on Tommy’s shoulder was brushed off.

“You’re not the same, Oliver. We both know it. And dating Laurel… it was a mistake. I thought I’d be happy without you as a friend if I had her, but I never did, did I?” His gaze seemed to rest heavier on Oliver for just a moment. “And now I have neither.”

His friend turned and walked towards the large windows, the same windows Deadshot had fired through to strike Tommy’s father and leave him fighting for his life in Starling General.

“You can decide how to deal with Lance in the future if you really want. I just thought I could help my friend.”

“Tommy…” How did he explain that he appreciated it, but that it just wasn’t the right way?

Breakup or no, it troubled him that Tommy would do something like this. He had very nearly ended Detective Lance’s career with a single phone call. Yet he couldn’t explain why it was so vital that Lance remain on the force without revealing his interest in helping the city and possibly tying himself to the Hood. Something he could never let Tommy know.

So Oliver swallowed down the words and left, hating himself for it. No matter what he did, he just ended up with more problems at the end of the day.

He didn’t know how much damage had been caused to Lance’s position in the precinct. He didn’t know how to fix things with Tommy, or how to make things okay for them to be friends again the way they’d once been. He didn’t know how to restore the balance between the two of them and Laurel. Maybe there had never been a balance; maybe he’d only been fooling himself trying to keep them all happy.

He wanted so badly to see her whether it was against the cover or not, but as he exited the lobby of Merlyn Global his phone buzzed. Diggle had the answers they’d been looking for about the location of the Vertigo. After heading to the psychiatric facility and being force-fed an overdose only his own injected antidote saved him from, Oliver decided that the cover could go to hell.

The only problem was, when he reached Laurel’s apartment and slipped in through the back door, no one was home. In the middle of the night.

The exhaustion from the fight with Dr. Webb and his orderly assistant left him instantly upon realizing this. Where was she? What could have happened?

\---

Laurel frowned as she drew up to the front doors of the Wildcat Gym that afternoon only to find a sign taped to the front that read _Closed Till Next Week._ When she tried the handle, it was unlocked, so she let herself in.

“Ted?”

She spotted him gathering some kind of supplies in a couple duffle bags. He glanced up at her once in acknowledgement “I’m pretty sure you can read.”

“Is everything okay? You kind of look like you’re packing there,” she remarked, walking further into the space.

“It’s not for me.”

“Then what?”

“Some girl OD’d last night while she was out partying.” Ted shrugged. “When a white girl dies, people wanna look like they’re doing something. And then it’s the less fortunate who suffer.”

Of course. The more she learned about the ways their systems kept cutting the residents here down, the more ridiculous her ideals about justice in the courtrooms seemed. “Because she was out in the Glades, they’re going to crack down on the people who live here,” Laurel summarized. When her teacher nodded, she asked, “How can I help?”

He straightened up and looked her over as if assessing her for a moment. “We’re going into the crackhouses, getting the people out before the cops can round them up. I’ll be keeping some of them here, some friends that run a shelter are gonna take more. By the end of the week, everything should be calmed down.”

Laurel nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Ted drove them around to different rundown tenements in the neighborhood. She’d seen one or two like this on her visits to clients in the past, though never set foot inside. That was changing today.

The smell was what hit most strongly. Sweat, piss, bile. The very air seemed stale, trapped as it was behind windows covered in dust and grime.

There were a few people slumped around on couches with broken springs or up against walls. Most of them were young, she was dismayed to see. Laurel supposed this wasn’t the kind of life that allowed a person to grow old.

“Come on,” Ted said gently, gripping the shoulder of a boy around Thea’s age. His dreads were practically plastered to one side of his face where he leaned on his friend. Or maybe they were strangers. “You’ve gotta get up. Cops are coming.”

“Man…” the kid groaned and blindly reached out. Ted helped him to stand.

“You have anyone to take you in?”

“Nah.”

“Alright, come on.”

Laurel watched Ted help him outside, then approached one of the girls on the couch. “Hey.”

“Mmph.”

“I know moving is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but I promise it’s better than jail. Do you need somewhere to stay?”

That got a head turning in her direction and eyes blinking at her blearily. “I stay here.”

“Not anymore. Come on.”

Calling on the approach she’d sometimes used with her father, Laurel lifted the young woman’s arm around her shoulder and helped her to shakily stand. The girl was barely supporting any of her own weight as she marched her out to the van.

Some of them were barely conscious. Some of them couldn’t move until they had water or food from the bags Ted had brought. Some of them were missing shoes or couldn’t remember where they’d left their own belongings.

It was slow work, especially since they could only take so many people at a time. They briefly crossed paths with Ted’s friends who ran the shelter in one of the other houses. They passed off some more supplies, food and blankets and the like.

It was dark by the time they called it quits, and Laurel stood with Ted looking at the people lying or sitting around on the gym floor. They looked just as lost here as where they’d brought them from.

“Do you think we got everyone?”

Ted shrugged. “No way to know. But probably not.”

“Where will they go after the gym reopens?”

“Right back where we found them.” He sighed when she turned to him with crossed arms. “Not like that. I couldn’t keep them here if I tried. Those houses are where they’ve found their escape, and they’re the only ones who can choose to stay away for themselves.” Ted took a number of cards for Narcotics Anonymous out of his pocket. “I make them take one when they leave. Sometimes it works. Sometimes only for a little. But what can you do?”

“It’s hard when people have lost hope,” Laurel agreed softly. 

Only several weeks ago, Thea had been refusing to listen to any of her brother’s pleas or demands to stop using. Only once it had nearly cost her her life had she gotten herself off the drugs. And not everyone found it so easy to go cold turkey like that. She’d have to let Thea know how strong she was, even if she had certain advantages and privileges these people certainly didn’t.

“Thanks for helping out,” Ted remarked. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Does it feel better than dressing up and beating on people in the middle of the night?”

Laurel froze and stared at him. “How—”

“Let’s just say you remind me of someone.” Her teacher looked her square in the eyes. “I know what you’re thinking because I’ve had those thoughts, too. That someone ought to do something about all the crap going on in this world. That that someone might as well be me.”

“You’ve… you were a vigilante?” She wondered how she had never heard — but then, she was mostly flying under the radar so far herself, wasn’t she? Not all of them could afford the high-budget theatrics of the Hood.

“They called me Wildcat. But I was a thug,” Ted said. “Beating up on other thugs. It didn’t change anything in this town. Things just kept getting worse. That’s why I’m asking you to hang this up now, before you really get going, Laurel. It’s only going to end with you getting hurt.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t fail because of what you were doing, Ted. And you weren’t fighting a losing battle. You just didn’t know _who_ you were fighting.”

Laurel walked around to keep him facing her when he turned away. “I’ve spoken to the Hood. He has evidence that a group of the wealthiest people in this city and their associates conspired to make the Glades worse off than ever over the last five years. He doesn’t know why yet. But that’s why things have become so bad. It’s not some statement on the people living here or some failure on your part. It was planned.”

She could see that this hit him somewhere inside. For a moment, his eyes widened, a dozen different emotions passing across his face. But at last, he settled on resignation. “All that means is I was never going to make a difference at all.”

“But we can now,” she insisted. “With the Hood taking on people at the top, it’s up to us to change things on the ground.”

“Maybe. But I’m doing what I can here, Laurel.” A frown creased his brow as he admitted, “I’m not in the shape I was, and I have things to lose. Maybe not a family, but this place.”

Ted walked to the nearest heavyweight bag and took it down off the hook. “You keep practicing, keep fighting. But it can’t be here. I’m sorry, but if they trace you back here and shut me down, that’s a lot of people back out on the street with nowhere to let out their hurt and their anger.”

Laurel nodded in hopes of disguising the lump that rose in her throat, especially as she didn’t trust her voice at the moment. She knew intellectually she hadn’t known Ted or the gym all that long, but it felt like yet another door being shut in her face. Another person walking out. Even if he explained, even if he had a good reason.

“Okay.”

“You take care of yourself, alright? And if you need me, I’ll do my best to be there,” he told her. “I hope you do make a difference. I hope you’re right. But I’ve found where I need to be.”

“Good.” She hauled the bag up from the ground by its straps. “Cause I’ve found the same thing. And I’ll be there, too.” Laurel turned and left the gym, her heart hurting more than the strain on her shoulders.

The more time went on, the more people she seemed to lose. Sara, her mother, her father, Tommy, Oliver more than once and now Ted. Was this just the way things ended for people on this kind of path, or was this just her?

She dropped the bag on her front stoop in order to get out her keys. Laurel froze as she placed the key in the lock. Was that the creaking of floorboards inside?

Drawing in a breath, she turned the knob and threw the door open, launching forward with her key pointing straight out of her clenched fist. An arm in dark leather took the brunt of it, and someone else’s hand grabbed towards her. She dropped and kicked one leg out, catching him in the shin.

There was a grunt, though he didn’t fall, and then he called out, “Laurel, stop!”

“Ollie?”

Laurel scrambled back up and their fingers tangled as they both reached for the light switch. Oliver’s face looked pale and drawn, though he still smiled weakly at her.

“Guess I should call ahead.”

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She reached for his arm. The leather of his jacket now bore a scratch, but it had protected him.

“Believe me, I’ve had much worse. That was a hard kick, though. Where’d you learn that one?”

“Uh… my neighbor.” It was strange; she hadn’t thought about what to tell Oliver or when in more than the abstract. Their limited ability to see each other meant that she hadn’t necessarily felt obligated to disclose her nighttime activities. But now that he was here, what should she say?

As she looked at him, how worn and tired he seemed, would he even want to know?

“What was that thud I heard outside?”

“What? Oh, my punching bag.” Laurel stepped backwards out into the night to grab the straps again, but felt Oliver’s warmth and presence behind her as he reached around her to take hold. She could admit with some chagrin that he had an easier time carrying it inside. “My trainer is using his gym for something else for a week or so, so he lent it to me.”

“Is that why you were out so late?”

“Yes and no.” She could at least open up a little, right? “I was helping him get some people help. With the latest Vertigo scare, the police are going to be renewing the war on drugs, and that means a lot of people would suffer.”

Oliver opened his mouth for a moment, stopped, then said, “They’d only find the victims and not the ones dealing.”

She nodded. “Ted was the one who pointed it out to me. He’s a good guy.” She was really going to miss him, even if he was doing what he felt he needed to protect the gym.

“Well, the scrutiny over Vertigo should end soon. I took care of the new distributor tonight.” The way he said it, the slump of his shoulders, she thought she knew what must have happened to the distributor.

“Thank you.” Laurel crossed to the couch, gesturing to the open space on the other end. Oliver sat, and though he looked better for no longer having to hold himself up, he still wore a troubled frown. “What really brought you over this way?”

“I don’t know.” He sat forward, staring at his hands in his lap. “It feels like lately I can’t find the answers to the problems I’m facing. Or this city’s facing. I’m no closer to figuring out what my father was trying to stop except that his list has a map of the old subway tunnel system on it, which has nothing to do with the names. I don’t know what happens once the mission is complete. And Tommy… he’s lost, and I don’t know how to help him.”

Laurel bit her lip and looked down. “Is he still hurting over his father?” She hoped it wasn’t still the breakup.

“It’s more than that. Some of the things he’s saying, how he’s been acting since he took over Merlyn Global. And I think he knows I’m hiding things from him.” Oliver’s eyes searched hers. “I can’t be the friend he needs when I’m keeping all of this from him.”

She looked down. Just how good of a friend was she being to Oliver when she was keeping things from him?

“I wish we could all just go back sometimes,” he said wistfully.

“So do I. But we can’t go back, Ollie.” She looked up then. “We can’t change the past. We just move forward and hope that we’re acting for the best now.” Laurel leaned across the space towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever comes of your friendship with Tommy, I think most of the people of this city would agree that you have been doing your best by them. I know that doesn’t make it any easier to let go.”

“No, but it helped me realize what I can and can’t let go of,” he said. Oliver turned his head toward her. “I need you in my life, Laurel. Whatever story we have to make up, whatever excuse. Friends have differences of opinion all the time, and whatever else people have to believe of me as Oliver Queen, I want them to know that I am someone that sticks by my friends. No matter what. I miss you. Please.”

She had never been good at resisting those begging eyes. Laurel leaned across the couch space, her arms circling around him. He held her, his face turned into her neck, breath washing over her skin without her hair to act as a curtain between them. She wished they could simply stay like this forever, but they couldn’t cause time to stop any more than they could turn it back. And there was something he needed to know.

“Ollie—”

A sharp rapping on her front door caused them both to tense up and pull back. It repeated, and Laurel stood. Oliver grabbed for her hand but she pulled free, going to the door and checking through the peephole.

“Dad,” she said aloud out of surprise. She thought she heard Oliver scramble to stand up as she pulled open the door. “Dad?”

“Hey, uh. I wasn’t gonna stop if it looked like you were sleeping, but I saw your light on. I guess I just needed someone to talk to, cause of—” He froze upon spotting Oliver, who Laurel noticed looked stricken as he watched them. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“We were just talking,” she began.

“Detective, I’m so sorry,” Oliver spoke at the same time, throwing her completely. “I never meant to cause you trouble at work.”

“Never meant to, huh? So you gave your buddy Merlyn a call so he’d, what, cooperate with the law?”

“I didn’t know that he’d go to Stein, I only—”

“Okay, hang on, both of you,” Laurel said, holding her hands up like stop signs. “Before you keep arguing in _my_ home, I need to know just what is going on.”

“There was a girl who died of an overdose after visiting his club,” her dad said, throwing a glare in Oliver’s direction. “Had a text on her phone to Merlyn asking for a fix. I was following the lead.”

“I called Tommy to tell him the situation,” Oliver admitted. “He’s been out of the club management for weeks. I just didn’t want him caught off guard. I didn’t ask him to call your boss, I swear.”

Laurel believed him, but she had her father to worry about. “Daddy, what did Stein say? Did he suspend you, did he—?”

“I still have my job,” he clarified, then scowled in Oliver’s direction. “No thanks to him.”

“Detective, if there’s anything I can do—”

“Yeah, there is something. You stay the hell away from my daughter. You and Merlyn.”

“Dad!”

Oliver bowed his head. “I understand that you’re angry with me, Detective Lance, but Laurel is my friend.”

“Really? You have a funny way of showing it!”

“That’s enough,” Laurel snapped. “Oliver was not intending to hurt you, and whatever strings Tommy pulled with Stein doesn’t change that Oliver _is_ my friend. I know you’re upset, but you cannot keep blaming him for every single thing that goes wrong in your life.”

Her father was breathing harshly through his nose but remained silent.

“I should let you two talk,” Oliver said quietly. He made his way to the door, skirting around her father. “I’ll see you…?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah.” Even if she didn’t know when. Between her work — both the kind she was paid for and the kind she wasn’t — and needing to pull her father out of this latest funk, it wasn’t going to be easy.

He glowered at Oliver until the door was closed behind him. Then, predictably, he rounded on her. “What are you doing, letting him back in your life? Where exactly was he when you lost everything this winter?”

“He offered to help me find work, actually,” Laurel revealed, perhaps rashly, but she was getting tired of remembering which conversations were a public or private matter. “But after the Hood visited Mrs. Queen to question her, I told him he shouldn’t have to choose between him and his family. _I_ was keeping my distance from him, not the other way around.”

Her father opened his mouth, closed it, then frowned as she watched the wind deflate from his metaphorical sails. “I still think it was a bad idea for you to get mixed up with these billionaires.”

“I will agree that it got complicated,” she replied. Especially with Tommy. That really hadn’t been one of her better decisions. But then, she wasn’t the only Lance who had made bad decisions in the wake of the _Queen’s Gambit_ sinking.

Was her past decision part of why her father was having such trouble at work? Was Tommy taking his anger out on her father? Maybe she should confront him — or would that only make everything worse? It was hard to know. She felt like she’d taken Tommy’s snark and devil may care approach to life for granted, not realizing the deep anger and hurt that lurked underneath. Could she have done more to be there for him? Would he have even let her?

“What’s this?” Her father was prodding the heavy bag with his toe.

“Gift from Ted. Uh, he’s a trainer at the local gym. I started going,” she told him. It was hard to remember what he did and didn’t know thanks to the time they had spent not talking. “I know you worry about me taking care of myself out here.”

“I do, yeah.” He glanced around. “How are you gonna hang it?”

“I’ll probably ask Jerome for some help. He’s next door with Anita.”

“You’ve really made a home for yourself out of this place, huh?” Her dad shook his head. “I didn’t used to believe you, but… I think you were right.”

It was rare enough that he said so that she sorely wished she knew what he thought she was right about. Laurel crossed her arms and raised both brows. “Oh?”

“What I was trying to make you do. Stay safe, keep your head down, all that. It wasn’t living.” He took a step towards her. “I was too hands off with Sara, so I doubled down on you and it wasn’t fair. You needed to find your own way.”

Laurel bit her lip. It was the last thing she’d been expecting to hear, and she had no idea what to say to it.

He waved a hand, like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I just needed to tell you that. Now I think we both could do with some sleep.” He saw himself to the door, but paused as he opened it. “Look, about Queen.”

Laurel watched her father as he stared at the ground, obviously warring with himself.

“You do whatever you think is best. I trust you to know what that is. Just want you safe and happy, okay?”

“Okay,” Laurel agreed quietly. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Laurel slowly sank back down onto her couch when she heard the door of his cruiser shut outside and the motor start. She hoped he really was going home and not back to work, especially if he was on thin ice with his superiors at the moment. That didn’t lend well to his temper.

Laurel placed her face in her hands. What she thought was best. There were just so many moving parts in her life, it was hard to know what that was anymore. Was she really doing right by the people in her life and in her city?

She thought of a gym full of people sleeping and safe from being thrown in prison. She thought of the things she had achieved so far out in the streets.

Maybe she couldn’t know for sure, but she was the daughter of a cop, and her gut was saying that in at least one regard she was right on the money.

\---

Tommy didn’t used to like drinking alone. In a way, it felt like admitting that he _was_ alone. But it really was time to stop pretending.

He left Oliver’s untouched drink on the table for the janitors to clean up and locked up for the night. It made him uncomfortable staying here too late; too easy to recall the night his father had been shot and poisoned. So he made the long drive home, out of the city and into the peace and quiet of the surrounding countryside with its rolling hills and family homes.

He’d regrettably had to cancel the lease on his new bachelor pad so that someone was living in the Manor to give the staff reason to be paid. Being here made him feel closer not just to his father, but also his mother. If he closed his eyes and thought hard, he thought he could still picture the better times. The times they were a family, before the violence in this city had taken his parents away from him.

His footsteps carried him towards his father’s study. He hadn’t entered it since before the attack that had left him comatose, but Tommy did so now.

Papers sat on his father’s desk, correspondence and notes forever paused with no way of knowing when they would be picked up again. Tommy circled around the desk, standing where his father might have stood. His hands rested palms flat on the wood as he drew in a breath and closed his eyes.

He missed his dad. But Oliver’s question did make him wonder, was this truly what he wanted to be?

There was so much he felt he didn’t know. How had his father been able to fight those men that had attacked them? And what was behind that sliding wall his father had started to open in the panic room that night? A part of him was afraid to find out.

The other part of him, that part that truly did sound like his father, told him to stop being such a coward about it. Without his father’s unexpected skills, they would have both died that night, rather than him living and his father being in hospice. Strength was something good, something people respected. If Tommy had been strong, maybe Laurel wouldn’t have left him for the Hood.

His hands curled into fists against the cool surface of the wood. The Hood was an example of strength gone too far, strength that took what it wanted and bullied everyone else into submission. He was a product of the very neighborhood he seemed to slink out of every night to conduct his one-man crusade against the wealthy and successful in this city. And he needed to be stopped before more families were ripped apart.

“I’m beginning to see the resemblance.”

Tommy straightened up and turned towards the door. An unfamiliar woman stood there. She was beautiful in an exotic way, and not just because of the scar on her face.

“Who let you in here?” He would need to know which member of the staff to have words with.

“No one. You are the only one who knows I’m here.” She stepped forward, and Tommy took in the strange clothes she wore and the quiver of black arrows strapped to her back.

“If you’re some new girlfriend of the Hood’s—”

“I have no association with him. I belong to a much older order. A higher calling than this Hood aspires to in a vain attempt to salvage the ruin your city has become.” She reached a hand out, fingertips brushing a photo of his mother that sat on the desk. “A calling your father dedicated himself to in service of the one you both lost.”

He removes the photograph from her reach. “What do you know about my father?”

“Everything.” Her gaze was hypnotic in some ways. He didn’t doubt she was dangerous, lethal even. But did she really hold the answers to all the questions he had? “And I can heal him. With your help.”

After so many weeks of despairing, this stranger offered him hope. “What’s your name?”

She smiled, though like his father’s own smile, it held little warmth. “Athena.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have been excited both about Tommy and Laurel's journeys, and I'm happy to say this chapter features more of both. Enjoy!

Athena was accustomed to deferring to those less skilled or worthy than her. The current Heir to the Demon was only one such example and was, in part, why she was here.

Simply put, the League was stagnating before her very eyes. She couldn’t say when it had begun. Perhaps shortly after she had joined the League when the schism between Ra’s and his eldest daughter had occurred. Or perhaps not until much later, when a girl had laughed in his face at a display of his power and he had not relieved her shoulders of her head but instead allowed her room, board, training and even his Heir’s body for her own pleasure.

Athena believed in her heart, however, that Ra’s decline had begun between those two points, with the departure of _Al Sa-Her._

Never had she met a warrior so single-minded in his goal, yet all the more deadly for it. The lost man who had stumbled upon their secrets molded himself into a weapon and leader, rising through the ranks with greater speed than any before him.

But Ra’s had let his Horseman go, and had never truly recovered the loss. His leniency towards Nyssa’s dalliance with the disloyal girl in their ranks, his over-reliance on the Pit keeping him confined to Nanda Parbat more and more. Despite all appearances, he was an old man dragging them all to the end with him.

Athena had had no plans to strike against him, not until she had overheard the news on a mission to the Americas about the man the rest of the world called Malcolm Merlyn.

That such a man should fall to a poorly carried out stunt such as the news described was unconscionable to her. She could only assume he had been forced to act in a manner to protect his son, the man who now stood before her. The man she needed in order to achieve the plan that had begun forming in her head.

“Athena,” Thomas Merlyn echoed. “Is that your real name?”

“It is the only name I answer to. And before you check, you will not find me in any sort of search you might conduct on your devices.”

He grimaced but carried on. “How did my father meet someone like you?”

“His oaths would have kept him from sharing too many details of his time away, but we were part of the same League once. I served first as one of his trainers, then as a comrade-in-arms when he surpassed even me.”

“Comrade… in arms,” he repeated once again. She hoped he wasn’t truly this dim. “So you’re saying my father left me after my mom died to go train in some secret Fight Club?”

“He was preparing himself to enact justice upon the ones who took her from this world. From the intelligence I have gathered, he was very near his goal before the Triad’s contracted assassin mortally wounded him.”

The young man’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his father’s current state. “You said you can heal him. How? You don’t exactly look like a nurse.”

Athena withdrew a vial from her pocket. A vial she had taken great care in filling with a priceless elixir. “The contents of this vial will revive him. Slowly, I am afraid, but I could not secure more and remain undetected. You will need to introduce it into his system. I recommend the IVs replacing his fluids.”

Thomas’ eyes reflected a hunger as he reached out, but his arm paused midway. “How do I know you’re not lying? That this isn’t just more poison?”

Well, he wasn’t a naive idiot, at the least. “I am risking everything by changing my allegiance to your father and his kin. Should the man we both trained under discover my actions, I will be forcibly returned and executed for my disloyalty.” Thomas blanched, but she paid no heed. “Nevertheless, I believe in the cause _Al Sa-Her_ was working towards. The evil of Starling City is too great, and must be eliminated. Surely you see that your city is slowly choking on the waste that wells up from the bottom?”

The look in his eyes hardened, and he took the vial. “How long will this take?”

“It is unclear. But in the meantime, you must lead in your father’s stead. There are others he would have recruited to his cause. We must find them out and see just where their loyalties now lie in his extended absence.”

“Wait, are you trying to say you can find out who set up the hit?”

“Of course I can.” She knew he had little reason to trust her abilities as of yet, but he would learn. And if he learned each piece in just the right order, she felt certain she could craft The Magician an Heir more loyal than Ra’s could dream of, if less adept with a weapon. But that, too, could be taught.

Athena retrieved a phone from her pocket that she slid across the desk towards him. “My number is the only contact programmed in. Attend to your father, then call me when you are ready to take up his work.”

While his gaze remained distracted by the phone, Athena slipped away as quickly and quietly as she had come, disturbing no one. Her next steps were already clear in her mind; discover the source of the contract on The Magician’s life, determine the timeline of his recovery and the completion of his plans and deliver his son to him as a dedicated disciple. All of this she was confident she could achieve.

Thomas Merlyn was less skilled and worthy than she, yes. But he held that same cold determination, that drive of his father’s. And history showed that could be molded.

\---

Joanna sighed as she settled back in behind her old desk. It was earlier than her mom might have liked, but she was officially back to work.

She stared across at the empty space where her friend’s things used to be. No more Sara in her graduation cap, no more white board of targets. Laurel was well and truly gone from CNRI.

Well, not totally gone. Her protege approached Joanna scarcely after she’d sat down.

“Hey, Thea.”

“Hey. I’m so glad you’re back.” The younger girl hugged her. “How are you?”

“You know, pulling through. I guess you have experience with that.”

Thea nodded. “Yeah, well just don’t do what I did and you should be fine.”

Joanna laughed. “Alright, what have we got today? Think I read something about a deposition being filed?”

“Mm-hm.” In her work clothes and with a folder in her hand, Thea Queen looked truly different from the party girl she’d been only a few months ago. “It’s against Edward Rasmus. He stole the family’s savings, and they’re looking for restitution to help them get back on track. They lost everything in their son’s college fund because of this piece of crap.”

Okay, maybe Thea wasn’t totally different.

“Well, hopefully we can get it all back. Let me see the file so I have the details before they come in today.”

She was able to read up on the Moore’s file as well as a couple others before the family arrived. The couple had even brought their young son with them, who was adorable as he was shy. Joanna talked them through the deposition process and promised to have it submitted before the day was out.

It was the last time she spoke to either of the parents.

Joanna woke up early to a call from the police informing her that her clients had been killed in a home invasion gone wrong. Taylor had miraculously managed to escape the carnage out a window, so now she found herself playing social worker instead of lawyer as they tried to figure out where he would go in the immediate aftermath.

Eventually, they decided on a temporary placement with social services until his grandparents could return to the States. It still broke Joanna’s heart a little to watch Taylor being led away by the hand, and she resolved to check in on him at least once a day until all of this was over. Though she’d need to be careful about how to do it; she didn’t want a repeat attack. The timing of that ‘home invasion’ was a little too convenient for her liking.

She was glad to get a text from Laurel that day asking if she wanted to meet up. It really had been forever since her friend had bothered to reach out and that stung, but Joanna wasn’t going to turn her away when she actually did try.

It was still strange seeing her with shorter hair, Joanna reflected as she grabbed the barstool next to Laurel’s at the old place they’d gone to once or twice after work in the old days. “Hey.”

“Hey. My dad called and said you’d been at the station,” Laurel admitted. “I thought you could use a drink. I’m buying.”

“No, you shouldn’t—”

“I’m okay,” her friend insisted. “I’m just really sorry to hear what happened to your clients.”

Joanna blew out a breath. “So am I.” The whole thing stunk of the crap Thea had mentioned yesterday, but of course that was only a feeling she had. And she wasn’t about to bring that up with Laurel when her asking her to get the Hood’s help on Danny’s murder was what had led to her friend’s fall from grace to begin with.

Yet apparently she didn’t have to. “It was Rasmus,” Laurel said with conviction as their glasses were set down.

She nodded even as she said, “There’s no proof. And now there’s no case. I mean, the kid’s only six.”

“Where’s their son now?”

Joanna looked down. “Social services took him.”

Laurel turned on the barstool to face her. “He’s in the system? After just losing his parents?”

“It’s only for a little while. They’re having trouble getting in touch with his grandparents because they’re out of the country.”

“But the killer Rasmus hired is still out there, Jo,” Laurel argued. “He could get the information on where Taylor is.”

“I’m hoping he was only interested in stopping Mr. and Mrs. Moore. I mean, what else could I do, Laurel?” Joanna asked. “I’m still staying with my mom, and I couldn’t bring Taylor in there and put her at risk like that after everything. I talked to your dad specifically and had him put two squad cars outside.”

Laurel looked down. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to do what’s best for everybody, I just…”

“I’m worried, too. I’m going to make regular check-ins over the phone in case someone’s got their eyes on me, too.”

“That’s not out of the realm of possibility,” her friend agreed. They both sipped at their drinks for a while, neither in the mood for idle chitchat. So much for catching up.

Joanna left her things with Laurel while she went to the bathroom before they headed out. As she approached the bar, she noticed Laurel was hunched over her phone, though she straightened up as soon as Joanna got close.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Listen, we should do this some other time when work isn’t so depressing, you know?” Joanna said.

Laurel nodded. “Definitely. Maybe next week or so? I’ve got some busy nights coming up.”

“How late is that shop open?”

“I’ve picked up a couple things. Just helps to keep myself occupied.” She went in for a hug, and Joanna couldn’t help noticing how _solid_ Laurel felt. Not that her friend had ever been all that fragile before, but there was something different to her stance, to the security she seemed to give off just through a hug. Joanna gave her head a shake as she backed off.

“Everything okay?” Laurel asked.

“Yeah. Guess I’m just thinking about how so much has changed… you’re taking care of yourself, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you.”

Joanna went home and ate dinner with her mother before they both kicked back to watch some TV. Nothing was really catching their interest, so her mother started channel-surfing. A picture on the screen caught her eye, and Joanna sat straight up.

“Go back, go back!”

“What, to the news?” Her mother hit a couple buttons and Green, the nightly anchor, came back on.

“—Rasmus allegedly confessed to police after they responded to reports of the Hood being spotted at the businessman’s penthouse. The hired gunman who killed Eric and Nancy Moore remains at large, and police advise all in the Glades neighborhood to exercise caution.”

“That’s the case you were working on?” Her mother asked. When Joanna nodded, her mom said, “Well, I hope you didn’t call him. Bad enough he got Laurel in trouble, I don’t need him sidling up to you.”

“It wasn’t me, mom,” Joanna assured her. But she was pretty sure she knew who it was, and she had to shake her head again. Laurel was never one to sit idle, was she?

With Rasmus in custody, Joanna decided to head to an early bed. No benefactor meant no additional hit, no additional hit meant no hitman.

Taylor would have to be safe now, right?

\---

Mr. Blank had a job to finish. It hardly mattered that the target was a little boy. He had seen his face. That meant he couldn’t remain alive. It was nothing personal.

He’d already taken care of his former employer through posing as the man’s lawyer to gain access. Only one loose thread left, and he would be free to continue his business unhindered.

It had been a simple matter to get the information on young Taylor Moore’s current housing situation. He had simply called in pretending to be a representative of the boy’s grandparents seeking to confirm the child’s location for pickup. Sneaking a peek at the casefile number for Taylor had been another goal of his at the police precinct, and it aided his ruse.

A group home in the Glades was the boy’s temporary residence, and it would now be his final one. Mr. Blank parked his car on the next street over from the building, then walked along the sidewalk sure to keep his back to any and all CCTV cameras. There weren’t many in this neighborhood. Even better, he had overheard at the station that two officers that had been stationed outside had been recalled only last night thanks to Rasmus’ capture. That left him free and clear to take care of matters.

As he drew up to the steps of the building, he noticed a young woman sitting with her back against the wall of the home, head bent and blonde locks hanging in her face. A potential witness. How irritating.

Mr. Blank sighed and reached for the gun in his trench coat pocket. In the same instance, she stood up in one fluid motion and looked him right in the eye, revealing her own face was hidden partially behind a mask. Interesting.

“Somehow I had a feeling someone like you would show up.”

“I assure you, there’s no one else like me,” he told her. “But I would have expected the Hood after his intervention with Rasmus.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Her fists were balled and she had no weapons. This would be easy.

Yet as he retrieved his gun, she lunged, one hand closing around his wrist and twisting hard. Mr. Blank hissed and pulled back, the gun clattering to the ground. She kicked it further to the side and moved in closer. So it was to be a brawl.

He feinted to her left and was just barely blocked by her arm when he tried to strike her right. He grabbed her arm and yanked it to force her forward, ramming a knee into her gut.

She wheezed but barreled forward to take him with her, crashing him into the wall outside the home. Mr. Blank tasted blood when he bit down. He just barely got his guard up when she went for a punch to his face. He twisted her arm behind her back and relished the cry that left her as he closed in, the fingers of his other hand reaching for her mask.

“You’ve seen my face. Don’t you think it’s only fair I see yours?”

Her head jerked back, colliding with his chin. His grip reflexively loosened, and she spun out of his hold.

What she lacked in finesse, she made up for in sheer enthusiasm. This was a brawler, and she lived for the fight just as much as he did. He thrilled at the blood pounding in his ears, the pain in his jaw.

They both eyed the gun lying a few feet away. He dove for it. She dove for him.

Mr. Blank’s fingers grappled for purchase on the weapon as her weight fell upon him. He turned and was met with two hands forcing his arm away, just as he squeezed the trigger.

_Bang!_

\---

He was walking home from another shift at the club when he heard a noise not altogether uncommon in the Glades: a person’s pained and heavy breathing. In the past, he might have kept on walking. But ever since his life had been saved by the Hood, he’d been trying to find some reason for it to have happened. Some reason he’d been worth it.

So Roy cautiously approached the alley he could hear the sound coming from. In the dark, all he could make out was the disheveled blonde hair of a woman leaning against the wall as she slowly staggered forward. Her head was down. She had to be focusing solely on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Hey. Hey, lady,” he said, coming forward. She hissed and drew back, but as she did her hair sort of shifted, revealing it to be a wig. And he thought he recognized the real hair underneath, short as it now was.

“Laurel?”

“Roy?”

He shook his head. “You’re the Woman. Should have known it was you.” She’d roughed him up well enough just for stealing Thea’s purse.

“Well, I’d congratulate you on your detective work, but this one was kind of handed to you,” she said, strain in her voice. She was limping pretty bad, too.

“Hey, what happened to you?”

“Got shot. Just a graze, but it hurts more than you’d think.”

“Don’t have to guess,” he said. Roy came around to stand at her side and pulled her arm over his shoulder. “Here, give me the wig.” He stuffed that in the pocket of his hoodie. Hopefully, they didn’t come across any cop cars or someone who looked at them too closely. “How far do we have to go?”

“Just a couple more blocks.”

They traveled it mostly in silence, not wanting to draw more attention to themselves than necessary. She had a place about the same size as his, though he thought her street had a slightly better reputation. Everything was relative.

“You got any disinfectant?”

“Cabinet above the bathroom sink.” She hobbled over to a little basket that turned out to hold sewing supplies. Well, at least she knew what was going to have to happen.

Roy returned from the bathroom to find her with one leg out of her leggings. He kept his gaze on the floor.

“You ever do this before?”

It took a beat where he thought she was nodding before she realized she needed to answer verbally. “Yeah. On my arm.”

“Okay. This’ll probably hurt a little more.”

She hissed when the disinfectant made contact with her skin and flinched badly at the first poke of the sewing needle. Not that he could totally judge her for that kind of aversion.

“You said a little.”

“My bad.”

Once he had finished closing up the wound, she grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch to throw over her lap which brought him some comfort. Roy sat back, watching her. “So when did this start?”

She shrugged. “A month or so back, officially. But it’s been coming.”

He thought he knew what she meant by that. The slow simmering of anger waiting to boil over into outrage at just how much everything here _sucked._ How unfair it was, how impossible it was for most people to escape.

“And the guy that shot you?”

Her head bowed for a moment. “He shot himself, in a way. I was trying to get the gun off him. It grazed me, but…”

She didn’t have to finish. 

Roy shrugged. “Then he got what he deserved.”

“What he deserved was to be tried for his crimes,” Laurel maintained, though her shoulders slumped and she lost the haughty look. “But I can’t say I’m devastated he’s gone. It’ll keep Taylor safe, at least.”

“Who’s Taylor?”

“A kid. His parents were trying to sue a man called Rasmus for losing their savings, and he hired a hitman to take care of the problem. The hitman killed the Moores a couple of nights ago, then came back to try and finish the job.”

Roy’s fists clenched at the thought. What kind of sick person targeted a little boy for something he wasn’t really even a part of? “How’d you hear about all this? I mean, was it the Hood or…?”

She shook her head. “The Hood has his own operation going on. I’m just doing my part where I can.”

“But you know him, right?” Roy couldn’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Or you know how to get in touch. I’ve been looking for him since he saved my life.”

Laurel said nothing, only studied him.

“Do you know if, I don’t know, I could help him somehow? I know how to fight.”

“The Hood’s mission is a personal one. I’m not sure that he’d be willing to risk someone else getting hurt,” Laurel said, smirking as she added, “There’s a reason I’m on my own.”

Roy looked down. So she thought it would be a no.

“He has a team.”

The unexpected words caused Roy’s head to jerk up sharply.

“I could see if he’s in need of anyone else to provide support. That’s the best I can promise you.”

It was better than he’d had. “I could help you fight out there.”

Laurel considered him. “You have a lot of good instincts, but they’re not honed. It’s going to take some training for you to be able to do more damage to them than they do to you.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s a we’ll see. Find yourself a way to train first. I’d recommend a guy except I think he’d kill me for sending another vigilante to his doorstep,” she remarked with enough lightness in her tone to make him think she was probably joking. “But for now, you shouldn’t be out there looking for trouble.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom.”

Laurel shook her head. “I am not old enough or financially and materially stable enough to be a mother.”

“Yeah, neither were my parents,” said Roy. He thought he caught her smirking at that in spite of herself. “I guess I should let you sleep the pain off.”

“That would help. I’ve got work tomorrow.” She stood with a low groan, wrapping the blanket around her waist like a skirt. “That’s not gonna be a fun walk.”

“You ever think about getting a bike?” He asked. “It’d get you around faster at night. Be easier to avoid the cops.”

She frowned. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“I know a guy who sells them cheap. They don’t have all the parts, but we could fix them up probably. Or I could.” He shrugged. “Support stuff, right?”

When he chanced a glance up, Laurel was smiling at him. “That’s not a bad idea. Tell me when we can see your guy.”

Roy felt his hope reignite, and he nodded. “Yeah, could probably get us in by the end of the week. But, uh, I guess you need my number.” He grabbed a pen off her counter and scribbled it on a to-go menu. Laurel grabbed it up with her free hand, nodding to herself.

“Okay. I’ll message you so you have mine, and I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

“Daytime would be best. I’ve got this new job. A real one, at the Verdant.”

For some reason, she smirked at that. “Good for you. You should stick around there.”

“Okay.” Roy backed up towards the door. “I’ll see you. Uh, what do you go by?”

“Laurel?” She said skeptically.

He snorted. “I meant like your vigilante persona. Everybody’s got different names floating out there. The Woman, Lady in Black, Angel, stuff like that.”

“And some less flattering monikers, I’m sure.” Laurel looked off into some kind of middle distance. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Maybe you should.” He shrugged one shoulder and headed out the door. Once it shut behind him, he couldn’t resist pumping his fist.

He was in with the vigilantes. Well, one of them at least. And he’d make sure Laurel felt he was indispensable so that she’d have to agree he made the cut. And then someday, she might even introduce him to the Hood, and he could repay the man who had saved his life and shown him this new path.

He was finally going to make a difference.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I hope people are ready for some of the developments in this chapter. All I'm saying this week. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Carly hated the most about closing, it was taking the trash out back. And not just for the smell.

The back of the building let out into a darkened alley with no street lamps. It reeked of garbage thanks to all the times the truck just simply hadn’t shown up, and was usually populated by all her smoking coworkers during a rush.

This late, the alley was empty. Or so she’d thought.

Just as she heaved the bags up and over to throw in the dumpster, she felt the barrel of a gun press into her side. Carly froze.

“Who’s inside the restaurant?”

“My- my manager. Couple customers.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Please, I have a son.”

“Give me your tips,” the mugger growled.

“He’s not even ten years old, father shot on the job. I’m all he has, I swear to you,” Carly continued as she slowly reached into her apron for the money. Her mace was in her purse hanging from a peg in the back of the restaurant.

“Give me the money!”

Her hand closed around the bills, shaking in fear and anger. Didn’t anyone in this town have compassion? Pity at the least? “I’m begging you. It’s for his lunches in the cafeteria. They don’t give him food if he’s in debt.”

“You think I give a shit? Give me the money!” The gun pressed hard enough into her back that she thought it might bruise.

Carly took her hand out of her apron.

_Whack!_

Suddenly the gun left her back and she heard a thud of someone hitting the ground behind her. She whirled around, backing up several steps.

Her attacker was on the ground with a woman all in black standing over him. She carried a long stick which she’d clearly used to knock him out and wore a mask over her face.

“How- how did you?”

The masked woman looked up at her and gave a nod but no answer before running down the alley and out to the street. Carly stood there gaping a few moments after.

Had that really just happened? And to her? Sure she’d been grabbed earlier last winter by that military whacko who knew John, but this was something else.

The man on the ground gave a groan of pain, and Carly hurried back inside. She quickly explained to her manager, and the other woman agreed to phone the police.

John had stopped by in the time she’d been outside, it seemed. She was glad he wasn’t staying too far away even if their sort of date hadn’t worked out. A.J. needed a good role model.

Her brother-in-law stood from the booth he was waiting at and came over. “Everything alright, Carly?”

“For the most part. The police are gonna be here in a little while. This guy out back tried to jump me.”

John’s fists clenched at his sides. “Where is he?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to get in trouble over this. Anyway he’s already hurting pretty bad. There was this woman.”

“A woman?”

“Yeah. She was all in black except her hair. A blonde. And she wore this mask. I guess she must be some other vigilante?” Carly shrugged. “Least the guy’s still breathing.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” John frowned. “She say anything to you?”

“No. I don’t even know how she knew to be there. I mean I’ve been hearing things about a woman — wasn’t sure if they were true. But I’m so glad it is.”

Getting mugged tonight wouldn’t have been the end of her world. But it would have been a setback she would have struggled to come back from for a long time, even if she’d borrowed from John for a time. Now she didn’t have to. She had her own money and her pride along with it.

If that’s what these vigilantes wanted to be about, she couldn’t say she’d complain about it.

\---

John didn’t get home until after the police had left with Carly’s statement and her would-be attacker. They’d asked her to come in the next morning to describe the woman who’d saved her to a sketch artist as well, so he’d be taking her there. Just as well, since he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her about his success in finally taking down Deadshot with Oliver’s help. Lyla had been mad as all hell at him for showing up until the Hood had kept what had ended up being a setup by Lawton from turning too ugly. Then she’d just pretended to be mad, though John was pretty sure he could still tell the difference.

In the present, he placed a call to Oliver to update him on the situation. “I’ll be late getting to the house tomorrow. Have to help Carly with something. Police matter.”

 _“Is she okay?”_ His friend asked.

“Fine. But she wouldn’t have been if that Woman hadn’t shown up tonight. She’s definitely real, Oliver. Carly’s giving them a description tomorrow.”

Oliver didn’t speak for a moment. _“See if you can sit in on it. I don’t know if this Woman’s done enough to get her sketch on the news.”_

They both knew busting up the odd small crime here or there didn’t drive up ratings. Then again, perhaps the novelty of a woman being the one doing so might be enough to pique media interest.

“You think it’s time to step in?”

 _“I’m not sure,”_ Oliver admitted, and he sounded discomfited to do so. _“She’s not the Savior, she doesn’t look to be doing this for her own gain… I’m not sure what to make of her or how to find her except to get lucky and spot her out some night.”_

“Well, luck be a lady,” John remarked. “And ladies tend to be mysterious.”

Oliver snorted, then said, _“Keep me updated about the police sketch.”_

“Alright.” He hung up and eased himself back up out of his chair. If he was going to the precinct tomorrow, he wanted to have some research already done to see if he could pick up on anything else they might be talking about regarding this Woman.

He went looking through some recent reports out of the Glades. Just as Raisa, Detective Lance and Carly now said, there were rumors growing about a woman in black. Taking on gang bangers, putting a stop to a rash of bus hijackings...the more he read, the more it sounded familiar.

John went through each of his suits, digging deep into the pockets until he came across a folded piece of paper. The list Laurel had written up for Oliver weeks ago.

It was almost identical.

He sat back on his bed, hand running down his face. It wasn’t definitive proof, but it was a damning coincidence at the very least. And what was he going to do if it was more than a coincidence?

He’d warned Oliver that the problems in this city were many and varied, that people wanted to see more than some billionaires getting knocked down a few pegs. Laurel had warned him, too. Now it seemed she — or someone — had taken matters into her own hands. And he couldn’t quite bring himself to disagree.

That was the trouble that came in signing up for this kind of crusade; it was a slippery slope. How did he support Oliver while condemning Laurel? The key, he supposed, was in learning what her motivations were. If she was even the one doing this.

One thing was certain: there was no way he could suggest the Woman and Laurel were the same person to Oliver unless he had real evidence or a confirmation. It would only start another argument otherwise, judging by how fiercely protective he’d become of his mother. So he was going to have to confront her on his own.

He kept his suspicions to himself while he sat in a chair at the precinct with Carly. The sketch artist drew up a picture of a beautiful blonde in a black mask. It didn’t look just like Laurel, but it didn’t _not_ look like her at the same time. Still, no reason for him to voice his concerns just yet. Especially when doing so would paint a big target right back over Oliver, and himself by extension.

He kept his eyes on the road as he drove Carly back to her apartment, still unsure how to address the news he’d intended to give her last night. Eventually, he said, “There was an Op the other night. The Feds. And, uh… they got him.”

“Him?”

“Andy’s killer.”

He heard Carly turn her head and chanced meeting her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s in custody now.” Lyla had held him back from doing something he knew he’d probably regret, as much as his anger was telling him Deadshot should be dead in the ground for good just like his brother. “He was wanted for a lot of stuff by the government. Sensitive stuff. So there’s not really gonna be a trial or anything, but I wanted you to know.”

He pulled the car to a stop outside her building. Carly didn’t get out right away.

“Were you there?”

John nodded.

“Thank you.” She leaned across the seats and hugged him. “I don’t know what I’ll tell A.J., or when, but… I’ll sleep better, knowing he’s getting what he deserves.”

John swallowed down the little of his disappointment that remained. If Carly was satisfied, then that would have to be enough.

She got out, and he continued through the neighborhood to his next stop. He’d have to hope she was in.

John knocked on the door of Laurel’s place but received no answer. Soft music from around the back drew his attention, so he circled around to the small yard.

Laurel was crouched beside a very rough-looking bike, looking to be struggling with a tuneup. She sat back with an exhale.

“Roy, great, I could really use some help—” Laurel stopped when she caught sight of him.

“Sorry, not Roy,” he said unnecessarily. “But I might still be able to lend a hand.”

Laurel stood rather than keep working, wiping her hands off on a towel that had seen better days. In the tank top she wore, John could definitely tell she had truly dedicated herself to the training Oliver had mentioned she’d picked up.

“Is Oliver okay?”

“He’s fine. Was glad to get your tip on Rasmus.”

Laurel nodded.

“Surprised you didn’t just take care of him yourself,” he added casually, watching her freeze for a crucial instant. John nodded to the bike. “Is the Woman gonna be spotted on this any time soon?”

Laurel hung her head for a moment, then leaned over to switch off the music playing from her phone sitting on the ground.

“Okay, great. Everyone knows I’m a vigilante. I guess Oliver has a better handle on the whole ‘secret’ thing,” she muttered as she straightened up.

“There’s a reason he acts the way he does in public,” John pointed out. “But you wear your heart on your sleeve, Laurel. Of course you’d be doing this.” He took a step closer, looking out to make sure they truly were alone. “What I have to ask is, why didn’t you say anything?” Did she really not want them to know? And was it because she wasn’t interested in working with them or some other kind of reason?

“How do you think Oliver would react if he knew?”

John grimaced. “Not well.”

Laurel nodded. “Exactly.”

“But, him finding out you decided to take on the problems you pointed out might make him decide to take them on himself. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not anymore.” She heaved a sigh. “Since doing this, I’ve realized just how _much_ it is, and expecting one person to tackle it all would be impossible. Oliver has his mission, and I get why. If that’s what he needs to do to absolve himself of survivor’s guilt over his father, he needs to do it. And it does help the city.”

John frowned, unable to deny her point. He was privy to just how overwhelmed Oliver got at times. Expecting him to do it all was an unfair burden.

“It’s the only way left I have to help, too,” Laurel added. “Isn’t that why you work with him?”

“Yeah, but I work _with_ him. However he would react, he’s going to find out eventually, Laurel.”

“I know,” she admitted, looking down. “But I’m not going to stop.”

“No, I didn’t think you were. You got the same look in your eyes when you talk about going out there that he does.” He wasn’t sure he understood it fully, how two otherwise civilians could decide to throw all caution to the winds night after night in an effort to clean up the streets. Maybe it really wasn’t about the training; maybe it was just about the person. “If he asks, I have to tell him.”

“I understand.” She at least didn’t look angry with him, merely resigned. So there they were.

John bent down towards her toolbox. “This wrench will work better for what you’re doing.”

The corner of her mouth lifted as she took it from him. “Thanks.”

“So who all knows? This Roy?”

“Yeah. My old trainer, Ted. And you. That’s really it, but you know, not great for that number to keep going up.”

“From what I can tell, it only keeps going up. Secrets always get out.”

“Maybe. That’s a risk I knew going in, I guess.”

“Have you thought about what happens when your father might be forced to arrest you some day?”

“He’ll have to catch me first. And it can’t hurt worse than a rubber bullet, so.” She shrugged. “Believe me, John, I’ve thought of all the reasons not to do this. You don’t need to walk me back through it.”

“Guess I can’t help trying.” He turned and began walking back to the street. “Be careful out there.”

“You too.”

John still hadn’t decided if he was going to wait for Oliver to bring up the topic or if he was going to just get to the point on his own by the time he reached the base. But then it didn’t really seem to matter when his partner of sorts was already gearing up for a serious brawl.

“Felicity thinks she has a hit on Walter,” Oliver said the minute John cleared the steps, hope in his eyes for the first time in a while when it came to talking about his stepfather. “There’s a large sum in Dominic Alonzo’s account that’s dated the same night of the abduction. If we can get to him, we might have a lead on what happened.”

Faced with Oliver’s rare optimism, John just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Telling him about Laurel would only throw him off of what they were working on now, and the information on Walter wasn’t getting any more recent. They needed to act as fast as possible if they had even a prayer of finding him alive.

So John held his tongue and told himself what Laurel was no doubt telling herself: Oliver would just have to understand.

\---

Tommy stood by his father’s bed, fingering the vial in his pocket. According to the woman who’d called herself Athena the other night, the contents of this vial were all that could save his father from death or from life as a vegetable. But could he risk it?

He didn’t have a way of verifying her word or her identity. But she had at least shown him her face. That was more than the Hood had done. If she wanted to poison his father, she likely could have snuck into the hospital and done it herself, considering how she had slipped past the mansion’s security team with ease.

Visiting hours were almost over, which meant that he needed to choose. What did he have to lose? He knew, active as his dad had always been, he would hate spending the rest of his days on life support, stuck decaying in a hospital bed. And Tommy did not want to pull the plug until he had tried everything.

So, with a look to the door to ensure he wasn’t about to get walked in on by a nurse, he took out the vial and added the liquid inside to the IV feeding down into his father’s arm. Tommy watched the liquid slowly descend and disappear beneath the paper tape covering the needle. He held his breath for as long as physically possible. Watching, waiting.

No change.

He deflated, even as he reminded himself that Athena had said it would take time. He needed to let the vial’s contents work through his dad’s system before he decided if this had been a waste of time and hope.

For now, he returned to his new office inside Merlyn Global. He both loathed and craved being in this place at the same time; this was where he had nearly lost his father. Yet that same night had shown him just how much his father loved him, that he had fought and even killed to keep Tommy safe. 

If this mysterious cure worked and he had the chance to speak with his dad again, Tommy knew he would apologize for ever assuming his father hadn’t cared. They had grown a lot closer in the time before his father’s injury, and he wanted that to continue. He wanted to understand him. Perhaps this Athena, if she was sticking around, could help him.

With one call on the special phone he had been given, it was not long until the very woman he had been thinking of entered his office. “Very elegant,” she remarked.

“That’s down to my father’s good taste,” Tommy said. “I gave him what you told me to about an hour ago. How long?”

“It is not an exact science. I am confident he will show signs of improvement before the night is over. Now,” Athena said, walking further into the room. “What is truly on your mind?”

Tommy smirked to himself. Was he really that obvious?

“This wall,” he answered, walking up to it. He revealed the panel of buttons hidden under a piece of artwork. “It’s false. My father was keeping something behind here, but I didn’t see what. I also didn’t see what code he put in.”

“I have been trained in code breaking,” Athena said. “But I do not think it will be necessary in this case. You are your father’s son, Thomas. You know him better than those who think they have seen his true face. What drives him?”

That was an easy question after the speech his dad had given shortly before the attack that had landed him in a hospital bed in Starling General. Which could leave only two dates, though Tommy quickly dismissed the birthday. Neither of them had felt much reason to celebrate that milestone, not without her there with them. It was the death date that he entered in on the panel instead.

_1-0-0-3-9-3_

The light turned green for a moment, and the wall slid aside.

What waited behind the wall caused him to back up with a startled cry. It couldn’t be real.

But the evidence remained before him. A black suit with a head covering, a quiver of black arrows and a bow. The copycat archer’s armaments and more were in his father’s possession.

“His uniform,” Athena said with warmth and reverence. “I knew he would keep it close.”

“His? He’s — he can’t be,” Tommy insisted, even as his mind went to the two Triad men his father had fought and killed without a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you your father belonged to an ancient order,” Athena repeated. “It is one based on the oldest form of justice known to man: evil must be replaced by death.”

“But the- that’s — he took hostages!” None of those people to his knowledge had been criminals, not even of the embezzlement kind.

“And were any of those hostages harmed?”

His mouth snapped shut.

“Your father waited to engage the Hood until after the hostages had been sent back to the authorities, according to the reports I have read. Their only purpose was to draw this vigilante out.”

“But… why? Why do any of it?” He just couldn’t seem to grasp that _his father_ had taken on that crazy vigilante at Christmas.

“Your father has been attempting to retrieve Starling City from the brink of decay. Crime, corruption and apathy rule its citizens. Even the attempts of the local relief efforts have failed to improve its citizenry. Your mother learned this the hard way.”

Tommy swallowed. Yes, he could agree that Starling City was a festering pile of shit most days, and the Glades most of all. Something should have been done about it a long time ago. But the idea of taking that knowledge and acting upon it with violence in return, was that really the way?

The Hood seemed to think so, he supposed. And Laurel believed that particular killer was a hero. There were rumors of others beating the snot out of these gangbangers and robbers. Was his father’s old form of justice really so far removed from their society when they were letting Robin Hood and his ilk roam free?

“You said you had knowledge of his plans,” Tommy began slowly. “What were they?”

“There is a phenomenon referred to by your National Park Service as ‘natural fire’, she explained, walking away from the secret room and instead turning to the windows overlooking the city. Tommy followed. “In order to revitalize nature and the lives of those creatures who dwell in such places, humanity allows these fires to burn away the parts of the forest filled with debris and detritus. They then flourish anew. So too will the Glades in your father’s vision.” Her eyes were fixed on that part of the city, which always stood out as an ugly mar beyond the tall, pristine buildings and clean streets of downtown.

“He wants to… burn them?”

Athena’s lips quirked. “Not quite. But a similar act of nature will do the job.”

If the copycat archer’s suit — his _father’s_ suit — wasn’t standing in a case behind him, he would think she was making this up. But there was evidence to back up her claim. His father had closed his mother’s clinic after how many years of increasing crime in the Glades — why now unless he knew something was coming?

“These aren’t trees or animals, though. There are people down there. Families, children.” _Laurel_ , he thought to himself.

“People who have chosen lives of crime and substance abuse. You have multiple stories in your culture’s religious tract of various peoples being punished for the actions of the collective evil. Is this not so different?”

“Nobody’s even sure those things really happened. They’re stories or warnings. I don’t know.” He hadn’t really done the whole Sunday School thing after his mother died. “Look, the Glades are beyond saving. The Hood and anyone else who thinks so are just delaying the inevitable. But this isn’t the answer.” He backed away, leaving the office and placing his head in his hands as he rode down in the elevator.

Was this really what his father wanted? Tommy wouldn’t know, not until his dad healed enough to ask. All he had was Athena’s word, and the matter-of-face way she spoke of this unnerved him.

He needed to get out of here, needed to think, needed — a friend.

He didn’t have very many of those. And after their last conversation, would Oliver even want to see him? But he didn’t know who else to turn to.

Tommy jumped in his car and traveled the familiar route to the club. Inside, he asked around for his friend, avoiding Thea’s busboy friend, and learned Oliver had been around but had gone down to his private office as per usual.

Tommy had never been to that part of the building himself. Oliver had been a much more private person upon returning from the island, and he had always gotten the impression that he was not exactly welcome. But after the attack on the club by that deranged firefighter where Oliver had gotten lost in the building, Tommy had had a copy of each of the door keys made for himself to make sure that he could get to his friend in an emergency if need be.

So he went around to the outside of the club and the back door he had never used. It took a few moments for him to find the right key, but he turned it in the lock and entered.

“Ollie?”

The room was dark, which likely meant no one was in. Tommy searched around for the light switch on the wall.

“I could really use some— advice,” he finished, the last word dropping almost soundlessly from his lips as the lights came on, suddenly illuminating the space.

The room was sectioned off into smaller areas, one with what looked like a mat like the kind the gym teachers put down when they were practicing tumbling in grade school. Other workout gear was around there as well. Then another section was made up of a table with computer monitors and other technology.

Tommy’s eyes, however, were fixed on the last section. A table upon which stood a row of arrows not unlike what was waiting back in his father’s office, but tipped in green. The Hood’s arrows.

Oliver was the Hood.

He wanted to reject the evidence before him, and yet it was all too _obvious_ now that it was staring him in the face. Why would the Hood have been around in the middle of the day to rescue them from those thugs? Oliver had killed them himself, then made up the story. Why was Oliver always making excuses to be somewhere else, leaving his mother and sister behind to worry? Because he was out there in the streets hunting his chosen prey. Why would Laurel have fallen for him so completely? Because it was the man she loved.

And he had left her to _fall_ , Tommy realized, his shock disappearing in a flash of anger. Oliver had been the one to lure her onto that roof, get her shot at, taken her away while Tommy had searched and worried — probably to this very place.

 _She knew._ Laurel had known Oliver’s secret from at least then on, and kept it from Tommy. They both had. It was the two of them as always, shutting him out. How could he have ever dared to think Laurel even cared about him, when she would throw her own career and _life_ away for Oliver’s sake, even after all he had done and become? They deserved each other, and it was a vicious thought. He almost wished his shot hadn’t missed the green-clad archer that night in his father’s office — that night Oliver, his own friend, didn’t save his father. He’d been lying this whole time to Tommy, pretending to be a sympathetic ear all the while never telling him the role he had played.

He needed to leave. If Oliver discovered him here, what would he do? Was Tommy allowed to know, or would he be silenced? He couldn’t say. He didn’t know his own best friend anymore. The man he’d thought of as a brother had truly died out at sea, and a monster had taken his face.

Tommy sat in his car, having no idea where he could go. His friends had all betrayed him, and he still didn’t know how to feel about what Athena had told him. He needed guidance, yet there was no one in his life who could provide it.

His phone range. And Tommy answered it with a weary, “What?”

_“Thomas Merlyn? This is Dr. Adams from Starling General.”_

He sat up straight in the driver’s seat. “Is my father okay?”

_“He is. He’s doing better than we truthfully expected. He seems to be responding to some stimuli. We think it would be helpful for you to come in and sit with him, at least for a little while. Coma patients respond best to family and loved ones.”_

“I’ll be right there.”

It had worked. The miracle liquid Athena had given him had worked. Or was working. He raced to the hospital and up to his father’s room, heart in his throat.

“Dad?”

His father’s eyes were just barely open. Tommy was ushered into the chair at his bedside, and he took hold of his father’s hand. “It’s me, dad. It’s Tommy. You’re gonna be okay. You need to be, cause we have stuff to talk about, alright? Stuff to do. I know- I know everything now. And it’s okay. It’ll be okay when we can talk.”

Very slightly at first, and then more rapidly, his dad’s eyelids fluttered. The hand Tommy held squeezed his fingers.

Grateful tears sprang to his eyes. “He’s really there. Oh, thank God.”

He stayed another hour, keeping up a constant stream of chatter about the company and the house, old forgotten childhood memories. His father never quite managed to fully open his eyes. Eventually, the doctors decided it would be best to leave him to rest some more and asked Tommy to come back in the morning.

“I’ll be here first thing, dad. We can talk then, okay?”

Getting back into his car where he’d crookedly parked it in the garage, Tommy wiped at his eyes and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. No matter what shocking things he had learned today, he had meant what he had said to his father; it would be okay now that he was getting better. Tommy could talk to him, reason with him about just what this whole plan was and if it was truly necessary. They could work it out together as father and son.

If nothing else, he had his family.

\---

Moira wished she had her family here at home with her, but life seemed to find its ways to make that impossible. 

Oliver kept incredibly late hours thanks to the club he was running out in the Glades. She worried about him and knew that hiring Mr. Diggle to protect him especially as he traveled in and out of that neighborhood had been the right call.

Then there was Walter. At times, she didn’t know how she kept breathing let alone kept up her day-to-day obligations and appearances all the whole fretting over where he was, what he might be thinking. Horrid as it was, sometimes she had to force herself to stop thinking about his situation in order to just make it through the next board meeting or the next meal.

Thea was home tonight at least, though she’d been staying out rather late as often as not. It had begun shortly after she had started the community service at CNRI. Moira suspected a boy might be involved, but considering how little she had done to curb Oliver’s dalliances with the opposite sex, she couldn’t reasonably do so to Thea.

Were things different, she might have been worried about all the time her children were spending in the Glades and how to make sure they were not there once Unidac completed its work. But that had been one less worry on her mind for the last month now, even if the attack at Merlyn Global had not ended precisely with the result she had wanted.

Best not to think about that, either, Moira reminded herself. She and Thea were both relaxing in the sitting room after dinner, the television on low for something to look at more than anything.

The front door opened, and two sets of footsteps indicated her son and his bodyguard had finally arrived home. Moira looked up as they entered the sitting room, but whatever wry remark had come to mind died on her lips at the sight of both their expressions. She stood. “Oliver?”

“Mom. Thea.” His voice, normally quite steady and strong these days, barely carried. “There’s um, something we need to talk about. About Walter.”

Beside her on the couch, Thea perked up, but Moira felt frozen.

Mr. Diggle spoke next. “I reached out to some contacts I have in the FBI on Oliver’s behalf a while ago to see what they might be able to turn up for the case. The thing is, they’ve gotten word back.”

“No.” It took her a moment to realize she had been the one to speak. “No, it can’t be.”

“Did- did they find a body?” Thea asked, her voice breaking on the last word.

“He’s gone, Thea. I’m sorry.”

“ _No_ ,” Moira repeated. Oliver stepped towards her but she got up and moved back. She couldn’t allow him to comfort her. That comfort would make it real when it obviously wasn’t. There was a mistake or a misunderstanding of some kind. She _knew_ Walter was alive, had to be, because of her deal with Malcolm. And yet, could she really trust Malcolm to begin with?

Her first impulse was to leave, to seek out someone, _something_ to set the record straight on what had to be an error. But who could? Malcolm could not answer to anything, and she had no way of her own to contact his associate. No one at Merlyn Global would either. Malcolm had always kept everything separate from the company, and Tommy of all people was running it. Tommy had no idea of the things his father had done.

No, as far as she or anyone else knew, this was the truth.

Standing as she was, Moira instead retreated up to her room to get away from her children and their stricken looks. She knew they thought she was crumbling. Well, she wasn’t. Or couldn’t. Not until she had had a moment to think. How could this be happening?

Had Malcolm’s people killed Walter once he had fallen into the coma and been unavailable to command them? Or had her husband been dead all this time? Either way, she was a widow once again, and the blame lay at the same man’s feet.

The blood pounded in her ears as one thought echoed through Moira’s head: _no more_. She was done being the victim, standing by as her family was picked off one by one. Malcolm slept in a hospital bed, utterly helpless. Why hadn’t they followed through? Why _shouldn’t_ they?

Part of her had been afraid, but what did she have to fear now? Another part of her had thought leaving him to his fate in the hospital was enough. After all, without Malcolm in charge, she could put the Undertaking off indefinitely under the presumption that they should wait for his recovery. The rest of Tempest would have fallen in line. But it was not enough to scupper his plans now. Oh no; Moira had promised Malcolm what would come were he to harm her family, and Moira, at least, was a woman of her word.

She got out the phone she used for these sorts of discrete communications and dialed the number Frank had given her to arrange for the contract hit at the award ceremony. She waited three rings before it was picked up.

 _“Jade Dragon, how can we be of service?”_ A woman’s lightly accented voice spoke.

“Yes, I placed an order about a month ago that was never completed. I’m asking for it to be done now.”

She had waited too long to save her family from Malcolm’s madness, but Moira would protect what she had left and avert his horrific vision for the city in one fell swoop, the way she should have done years ago. For Robert, and now for Walter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a day late unfortunately but we have the next chapter! I'm very excited/anxious to hear what people think, so I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Her first foray on the bike was going pretty well, in her personal opinion. It wasn’t like she had never ridden one, of course. Under her dad’s supervision, she’d been on the back of one of the police-issue motorcycles a few times and even shown the different controls. Ollie had always liked his bikes as well, and Laurel had refused to act the nervous girlfriend about it; part of why he and Tommy had always liked hanging around her had been her relative willingness to go along with their various misadventures to a point. She’d stopped short of anything that would have seen her in front of a judge.

Though if Oliver or Tommy could see her now, risking arrest night after night… she didn’t know how they could all be in the same city and yet feel further apart than ever most days. Even if a lot of that was her own fault.

She knew John Diggle was right. Oliver was likely to find out the truth of what she was up to these days, if only by running into her out on the streets some night. Wouldn’t it be better for the truth to just come from her?

But there was every chance it wouldn’t be better, that Oliver would react badly either way. He still blamed himself for all the crazy turns her life had taken this year. Laurel wasn’t sure if she could make him understand that this wasn’t the rock bottom of some downward spiral. If anything, this was a newfound sense of purpose and, strangely, of inner peace after being frozen in place for the last five years.

Did she have regrets? Of course. She wished she’d never agreed to date Tommy and broken his heart; she wished her job and the jobs of countless others actually paid a decent wage; she wished with all her heart that Sara could’ve been the girl in the Rockets cap her mother had been so desperate to find. But losing nearly everything had forced her to look at things from another point of view. 

No longer was she the charitable helper from on high, enlightened and sympathetic to the plight of others when no one else would listen. She could see for herself that there had been and always would be those in the Glades helping each other. Laurel had made more friends in the months since moving to her new home than she had had in her life, and friends who wouldn’t just disappear on her the way so many of her and Oliver’s high society acquaintances had after the _Gambit_ sank. And her understanding of justice and how it was enacted out in the real world had shifted radically as she had lost the blinders of her father’s old strictures and learned for herself what truly needed doing. She wouldn’t trade any of that for her old life.

Maybe, in a way, Oliver would understand. After all, he was the man he was today in part because of the misfortunes he had learned to fight and live through. She didn’t think he would go back, either.

Her wandering thoughts were cut off by her phone, which she could feel buzzing in her pocket. Laurel pulled off the road into an alley before stopping the bike and getting it out. “Hello?”

 _“Laurel, listen, it’s me,”_ John Diggle said. She tensed, wondering if he was about to let her know he had told Oliver about her. _“I’m hoping you can stop by the base tonight.”_

“How come?”

_“We got word about Walter, and it’s… not good. Oliver’s not doing well. I’d stay with him, but Felicity’s taking it hard, too. She needs someone. And I think — no, I know he probably needs you.”_

Laurel’s eyes had closed at hearing Walter’s name and she swallowed once before nodding. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad news about Walter. She could only assume someone had found the body. What a horrible thing to happen to a good man. What must Oliver’s family be going through? Apparently they weren’t grieving together, if Oliver had chosen to retreat to his base.

Laurel stopped by her home to drop off her wig and mask, then drove out to the Verdant. John’s car was still parked out back, so he must have decided to wait for her to arrive before leaving for Felicity’s. She remembered the blonde woman a little, though she didn’t know what she had to do with Walter exactly. Anyone would be taking the news of an innocent man’s death badly, though.

Laurel came in through the back entrance and immediately took notice of the fact that most of the lights were off. She spotted John in a chair, talking in low tones to Oliver, who was sitting on the ground with the wall at his back.

They both looked up at her approach, and Laurel slowed to a stop. But John stood and nodded to her in thanks before walking out the way she had come. Oliver’s gaze lowered back to his hands, and they were left in silence.

Laurel forewent the chair and settled cross-legged on the ground, her knee bumping Oliver’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, Ollie.”

“I don’t know what I expected. I guess, because of the lack of ransom note, I thought he might be being held for some other reason. That we could find him in time. But it didn’t matter what we did. He was dead before I left the hospital last December.”

She couldn’t exactly hug him from this position, so Laurel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to rest his head against her own shoulder. That he went with little fuss or fight wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“How’s Thea taking it?”

“Not well. I left her with- with Raisa.” His shoulders, if anything hunched tighter together. “They both knew Walter better than I had the chance to. I can’t really relate to what she’s going through.”

“Of course you can,” Laurel told him gently. “You lost your own father.”

“And I wasn’t able to save him any better than I was able to save Walter for Thea. Or for mom.” His throat bobbed, and his voice came out strained. “She’s shut herself back up in her room again. I don’t know how we’ll get her out.”

“You will. Your mother loves you and Thea, but she just needs time. And this wasn’t your fault. You said it yourself, you were in the hospital when he was taken.”

“If I had beaten the Dark Archer—”

“Then you still wouldn’t have been at Queen Consolidated to stop Walter’s kidnapping. How could you have known to be there? Like you said, these people who took him left no sort of warning or indication that this was happening or why.”

He sighed through his nose. “There’s a lot happening that I still don’t know why.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she insisted. “You’ve already done so much since coming home. You can do this, too.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his head to look her in the eye at last. “You always believe in me no matter how badly it hurts you. I can’t help thinking you’d be better off if you never found out who I was, or if I’d kept my distance as the Hood. But maybe you’d have just ended up helping out the Woman instead.”

Laurel stiffened, her arm drawing back. “The Woman?”

“Yeah, that’s… well that’s what some of them are calling her. From everything that’s said, she’s more the hero that you hoped I’d be.”

Laurel’s heart sank. That wasn’t what she’d intended at all by going out. She’d been _inspired_ by him and wanted to further what he had been doing on a smaller scale, not cause him to doubt himself.

“Ollie...”

“Hm?” His head tilted, curious as she struggled with how to say what she needed to. Yet as she struggled, a light seemed to spark in his eyes as his mouth fell open into a silent _oh_.

Laurel cringed. “That obvious?”

“Not as much as it should have been.” He hung his head, slowly shaking it side to side. “What have I done?”

Laurel frowned, shifting onto her knees so she could face him fully. “This isn’t something you did. Yes, you inspired me, but this was a choice I made. And it’s one I stand by.”

“If I hadn’t gotten you into trouble at work—”

“How many times am I going to have to remind you of all the good you’ve done and just how heavily it outweighs the bad? I’m not even talking about the city here. I’m talking about me.”

He looked up at her, and Laurel decided in that moment that they’d better stand. She needed to pull him out of this hole, and physically doing so was just about as good a place to start as any. So she took hold of his hands and tugged him up onto his feet with her.

“Without you, I would never have won the Hunt case once it got put in front of Judge Grell. I wouldn’t have won the Sommers case, either, because I’d probably be dead. Assuming I even managed to survive that, I would have let Peter Declan die like everyone else without you pointing it out to me. Yes, I was a lawyer, Ollie, and a good one. But I was passive. I was passive in every aspect of my life, too afraid to live because I didn’t want to get hurt. I’d found my comfort zone, and I was stuck in it.

“ _You_ changed that, the way you always do,” she continued, allowing herself to smile a little. “And it turned out that losing everything was the best thing to happen to me. I was too naive to see just how badly the system was functioning until I was living it for myself. Now that I know better, I can be more proactive, both in protecting the people of this city and myself. I know exactly what I’m willing to tolerate from people and the level of respect I deserve.” She thought of her mother and the lie she had kept all those years and never truly apologized for. Hard to imagine that she could find it easier to forgive the man who had betrayed her trust rather than her own flesh and blood, but Oliver had never once taken her forgiveness for granted the way her mother had seemed to be doing when she had arrived. He had worked for it, earned it.

But how he responded to her choice to take to the streets was going to be the true test going forward of whether she really did have his respect. She took a breath and said, “I can understand if you’re upset I didn’t tell you, but I needed to do this for me. To prove to myself I still had something to give to our city. So what are you thinking now?”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly still taking in a lot of what she had just heaped on him. At the very least, she had probably provided a distraction from his grief if she hadn’t alleviated it. But she knew firsthand it wasn’t so simple a thing as telling it to go away. “I don’t know. I can’t be happy about this, Laurel. Not because you’ve done something wrong, but because of the way this city forces good, honest people like you and your father to go outside the system in order to actually make a difference. Anywhere else, CNRI could’ve operated independently from the interests of wealthy backers, and they never would’ve forced someone as talented as you out the door. They have no idea what they gave up.”

He paced away a moment, then came back. “I’m also terrified. I know just how dangerous it is out there, and I never wanted you to be in that kind of danger, let alone _put yourself_ there. Is this what you’ve been going out there in?” He took hold of the two sides of her jacket which she’d unzipped upon reaching the base. At her nod, he frowned. “It’s not enough. You could take some real damage, get shot.”

“I have been,” she told him and shrugged. “Mostly a graze, but I handled it.”

He stared at her in shock, seemingly at a loss for words.

Laurel sighed and placed her hands over his. “Look, I knew this was going to be hard for you. That’s why I didn’t want to burden you with it. We haven’t run into each other out in the field so far, so you don’t have to think much about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s not that simple,” he argued. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about what could happen.”

“You can’t ask me to stop.” Laurel pried his fingers off her jacket and stepped back, only for him to follow and cup her face.

“I know. I know that, Laurel. If this year’s shown me anything, it’s that you’ll do things your way no matter what. You’re just like me that way.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as his eyes searched hers, and she tried not to shiver. “If the choice is between doing this with or without me, which would you choose?”

“What?”

He seemed at least a little amused by her shock, judging by the soft smile on his face as he said, “I’d rather you be at my side than out on your own. That’s what I’m thinking now.”

Laurel swallowed, her eyes stinging a little. Not in her wildest dreams had she expected Oliver to make that kind of offer, not at first anyway. He really had changed. She gripped his forearms. “There’s things I’m focused on that you’re not, and I can’t say I’d be much help against someone like that Dark Archer.”

“That’s okay. We can figure out what works.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice barely audible.

Oliver licked his lips, and, close as they were, she couldn’t help staring. “I need you, Laurel.”

“I know.” The truth was, she needed him, too. Tommy had seen it all those months ago, back when she had been unwilling to admit it. But she knew in her bones they were ready now, in a way they’d never been before.

He leaned down, one hand moving around to cup the back of her head, fingers playing with the shorter strands. Her own hands slid up his arms to his chest, his shoulders, his neck as their lips met. This wasn’t the rushed, blindly passionate kiss they had shared in his bedroom all those months ago. Laurel felt grounded in who she was and where and when and who she was with, and she was _glad_. She had missed him so, so much.

They broke apart, and Oliver brought his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes closed. She stroked the back of his neck and held him, her eyes darting around the base. Everything was so cold and sterile; had he really been planning to spend the whole night here?

“Why don’t you come home with me?”

His eyes opened, though he stayed silent.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. We can talk, or we don’t have to, but I want to be there for you.” She would make sure he returned to his family at some point, but she’d learned the hard way to read his physical tells of when he wasn’t ready to do something and wouldn’t say it out loud. She would give him the night before gently reminding him how much his sister and mother needed him, too.

Laurel led him by the hand out of the base, though Oliver stopped short at the sight of her bike. “You drove here on this?”

“Yeah. It’s sturdy,” she added when he continued to stare dubiously at it.

“Maybe for one. Come on, we’re taking mine.”

“I think you just want to drive,” Laurel replied with crossed arms as they headed further across the lot.

“You can drive — once I get you a new bike.”

She was having trouble keeping herself from smiling, glad that he already seemed to be feeling at least a little better. “I like my bike. Roy and I worked hard on it.”

“Roy?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only one you inspired.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, though all he did was swing a leg over the bike and wait for her to get on. She wrapped her arms securely around him, and with one last soft look back at her, he started the engine and headed off for her place.

\---

Oliver didn’t actually go to sleep. He rested with his eyes closed, even retreated into his own mind for a while, but he was afraid to truly lose consciousness. Because it might mean that when he woke up, he would realize all this was a dream.

He didn’t know how he could be experiencing a kind of dream with everything else going on — Walter’s loss was waiting somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the chance to drag him down into guilt and grief again at any moment. Yet the Laurel in his head had often come to him in his darkest moments on the island to help him see a way through. That the real one was here now to do so herself was a greater comfort than she probably knew.

Laurel had dozed for a while, but mostly she’d stayed awake, quietly running a hand up and down his back while his head rested against her breast. They were entwined practically head to toe to fit on her incredibly small mattress, and Oliver’s feet were still hanging the slightest bit over, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. In truth, parts of his body were _very_ happy with the situation.

The part of him that wanted to remain in this bed with Laurel forever, whatever they got up to in it, was eventually superseded by the realization that he had not eaten since before his confrontation with Dominic Alonzo. A loud growl from his stomach pretty effectively cut through the quiet intimacy of their embrace, and Laurel lifted her head the same time that he did.

“I probably have something in my cabinets. I’ll give you a minute to get settled.” Her pointed glance down had him ducking his head slightly, though she swiftly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek in a sign she clearly didn’t mind.

Oliver ran through some of the meditation techniques he had been trained in before feeling sufficiently calm and in control, then stopped in the bathroom to wash his face. There was a potted plant of some kind that sat there, its green leaves long and healthy. He padded out to the kitchen in his bare feet to find Laurel at the stove with a skillet and eggs. This warranted some monitoring.

To his surprise, however, there were no major accidents as she fried two eggs for them each. He found a couple plates in her cabinet and got them each some water as well, and they took seats at the counter beside each other.

“So, this Roy. You wouldn’t be talking about Roy Harper, would you?”

“I would. Jealous?” She asked in mock seriousness.

“Considering he’s supposed to be dating my sister, I hope not.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they’d gotten together. That’s interesting.”

Interesting was a perfectly neutral word and probably one he would use if Thea ever asked his opinion on her relationship.

“How much does he know?”

“He knows about me. Helped me home the other night when I was shot.”

Well, the younger man was rising in his estimation, at least.

“He wants to know about you,” Laurel continued after taking another forkful of egg. “I told him I’d see what you thought.”

He frowned in thought. What did he think? Roy Harper was an oddball, in that he had been on the right track to becoming a career criminal before suddenly changing his ways. He couldn’t say if it was down to Thea’s influence, his saving the kid’s life or these encounters with Laurel he was only just learning about. Maybe it was a combination. That being said, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to trust Roy with his identity just yet. He was still something of a loose cannon, even if he had turned over a new leaf.

“I’ll give it some thought. Maybe once I’ve figured out what the Undertaking really is.”

“The Undertaking?”

He froze and then shook his head. “I guess I always meant to tell you. The night I went to see my mother as the Hood, it was because Digg had overheard her meeting with some man about something they called the Undertaking. It has something to do with the list my father gave me and something to do with the underground subway tunnels in the Glades, but beyond that I don’t know a thing.”

Laurel frowned. “Did Walter? Maybe that’s why…”

He nodded. “Felicity told me he got a copy of the list from my mother and was looking into it before his- his death.” It was hard to put it so finally. “But he didn’t have any better ideas about what it was than we do, or if he did then he was never able to share them.”

Laurel placed her hand over his resting on the counter. Oliver turned his palm over so that he could lace their fingers together.

“If it’s something worth killing for, it can’t be good.”

“Yep.”

They didn’t have much longer to talk about it since his phone started buzzing. Oliver glanced at the caller ID, seeing his sister’s name, before answering. “Hello?”

_“Ollie, where are you?”_

He winced. He hadn’t actually wanted Thea to worry about him. “At a friend’s. I’m okay, Speedy, I promise.”

 _“Then you haven’t seen the news,”_ she told him.

Oliver felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. “Why, what’s happened?”

_“They’re saying Mr. Merlyn passed away in the hospital sometime last night. Complications with his recovery.”_

“Oh.” It was wholly inadequate, and yet, Oliver could only feel numb. He had just started processing Walter’s death. To know that another man who had been in his life since childhood — and truly more so, having been his father’s best friend — was simply _gone_ , like that, was simply bizarre. He had known Mr. Merlyn’s chances of recovery were slim and felt incredible guilt over having been unable to convince Tommy of the blood transfusion, yet for it to have taken such a turn for the worse so quickly, it felt like pulling the rug out from under him. He hadn’t even had the chance to visit the man in his hospital room yet.

Though thinking of his old friend, Oliver asked, “Have you heard from Tommy?”

_“No. I was kind of hoping you had.”_

His eyes squeezed shut. “I haven’t. Listen, I’ll- I’ll be home soon. I’ll leave right now. Just stay with mom. Has she heard yet?”

 _“I don’t think so. She’s still in her room,”_ Thea told him.

“Then wait for me, and we’ll tell her together.” He couldn’t imagine how hard this would be for his mother, losing her husband and her old friend in essentially the same night. They would be lucky if she left the house by fall. “I’ll be back soon.”

_“Okay.”_

He hung up, meeting Laurel’s concerned eyes. “What’s wrong with Tommy?”

“Nothing exactly. Just… Mr. Merlyn passed last night, according to the news.”

Laurel brought her other hand up to her mouth, and the one holding his clutched at his fingers tightly. “Oh, Tommy.”

“Yeah. I need to check on my mother, and then I’ll see about tracking him down.” Guilt churned anew in his stomach as he thought of the way he and his friend’s last conversation — or perhaps argument — had ended. And he worried what Tommy might think if he knew where and who Oliver was with right now. In the next moment, he dismissed that thought. Laurel was important to him, and Tommy knew that. He had been willing to set aside his own disappointment to be happy for his friends when they had tried to make a relationship work. As his friend, wouldn’t Tommy be willing to make the same choice?

He stood up and leaned in for one last kiss Laurel readily gave him. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. If there’s word on the arrangements…”

“Of course.”

He made the drive back to Queen Manor to find Thea sitting on the steps up to the bedrooms. “Were you out all night?”

“Kind of. Come on.” He helped her up, and together they headed to their mother’s bedroom door. He knocked lightly. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Her voice sounded remarkably steady. 

Oliver exchanged a look with Thea before asking, “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

He opened the door and entered, Thea trailing him.

Their mother was sitting up in bed, a robe pulled on over her pajamas. A photo album sat in her lap, one that, Oliver realized with an uncomfortable lurch, must have been produced for her and Walter’s wedding. She was stopped on a photo of the two of them, her one hand lovingly stroking the side of the page.

“I always hated this picture. I thought I looked bug-eyed,” she confessed, her tone more wistful than it was sorrowful. “But he always took a wonderful photo.”

“Mom, there’s been some, uh, some news,” Thea spoke up timidly.

She looked up, expectant, but Thea turned to him.

“Mr. Merlyn passed away last night in the hospital.”

He watched her eyes widen and mouth drop, heard the sympathy in her voice as she said, “Oh no, I was hoping for Tommy’s sake he would pull through. Malcolm was such a strong man.”

“Yeah, they think it was complications from the coma or something,” Thea muttered. “I wish I’d apologized to him for what I said at the party.”

Their mother opened her arms, and Thea sat on the side of the mattress and accepted her hug. “I don’t think he held it against you at all, dear. You were going through a hard time. Something this family isn’t strangers to, I’m afraid.” She smoothed Thea’s hair back and looked up. “I’ll make sure flowers are sent to Tommy’s home right away. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No,” said Oliver, a little stiffly. Something felt off.

“Well, I’d reach out as soon as possible, Oliver. He’s going to need your support.” She shut the album and laid it on Walter’s side of the bed with care. “I’ll dress and start seeing to those arrangements.”

Thea stood and backed up towards him, and when their mother got up as well she reached out and cupped both their cheeks. “Thank you for checking on me and letting me know. It would have been dreadful to read it in the paper.”

“Sure, mom,” Thea said.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed uneasily. He followed Thea out of the room and shut the door, pausing there in the hall.

Thea let out a breath in relief. “Well, nothing like keeping up appearances to get her moving again.”

“I guess,” Oliver replied, but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He hated thinking it, but his mother had been almost _too_ put-together given what Thea had told him of her handling of his and his father’s reported deaths and what he’d seen when Walter was first declared missing. And while she had displayed the typical signs of shock at the news about Mr. Merlyn, it just hadn’t felt like his mother. Where was the denial, the insistence that someone at Channel 52 had gotten it wrong?

But what did it mean? It could just be that she had made her peace with both Walter’s disappearance and Malcolm’s health already.

There was nothing he could do about the misgivings he held right now, and truthfully he was avoiding reaching out to Tommy. Oliver got out his phone and dialed, frowning when it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and sent a text for good measure.

Where would Tommy be right now? The hospital? He didn’t want to intrude there if he was. Beyond that, Oliver wasn’t totally sure where Tommy had been living ever since he had walked out of Laurel’s apartment.

He looked up the number to call to try and reach Tommy at Merlyn Global. A secretary answered, of course.

“Hi, this is Oliver Queen. I was hoping to get in touch with your boss. I just heard the news about his father.”

_“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen, but Mr. Merlyn is taking a leave of absence at this time and will not be taking any calls. I can have the details of the upcoming memorial service sent to you if you would like to pay your respects at that time.”_

“I would, thank you.”

He took lunch with his mother and Thea, even more troubled than before. His mother was up and about while Tommy had shut off all forms of contact. What was going on?

Diggle had made it in by the time lunch was over, and Oliver led him into a side room to talk. “You’ve seen the news?”

“Yeah. I was expecting it to be pretty quiet around here.”

“So was I.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t here when it hit?”

“Later. Look, the main thing is, I can’t get a hold of Tommy. He’s been… off lately, but I don’t want to leave him alone in this. Would Felicity be up for pinging his phone?”

His friend shook his head. “She’s zonked out on Nyquil after crying her way through the night. I doubt she’s even heard about Merlyn.”

He let out a breath. “Then I guess we wait.”

It was two days of feeling like something was not quite right with the world. Between Mr. Merlyn’s sudden passing, Tommy’s silence and his mother’s strange calm, Oliver wasn’t sure what was truly causing his senses to be on high alert.

Only Laurel could get him to calm both nights when she joined him and Digg down in the base. Without Felicity there to chatter like she had been the last couple nights they had been following the lead on Walter, her company was welcome to them both, and Oliver felt some of the tension in him ease as they ran practice spars against each other. Laurel was fairly solid on the fighting forms she had chosen to learn while Oliver had bits and pieces from a variety of teachers, and it made them an odd yet oddly suited match as they tested each other’s limits. She took quickly to learning from both him and Diggle; it was the studious nature in her that drove her to discover and master anything about a subject she took interest in.

“The memorial is going to be at the Merlyn home,” Oliver told her the second night as they danced around each other on the mats. “They’re burying him next to his wife.” 

Laurel froze, only for a moment, but it was enough for him to get behind her and pin her arms to her sides.

She kicked out, forcing him to jump back, and then she had spun to face him again. “Do you think… I still haven’t spoken to him since it all fell apart.”

“What other time is there going to be?” Oliver pointed out. “I know things didn’t end well, and I didn’t help that by driving a wedge between you two as the Hood. But Tommy is going to need us. I hope he is, anyway.”

His mother and Thea reacted only with mild surprise when Laurel arrived at the manor the next morning dressed all in black to make the drive over to the Merlyns’ with them. She had brought a basket of roses with her in a deep red color, more like crimson.

“They mean grief and sorrow. Pam and I put them together,” Laurel told him.

After being dropped off by their driver, their procession of four walked across the lawn to where chairs had been set out. Already the crowd was filling in, and Oliver found them a row near the front with enough open seats.

Before she could enter the row with them, his mother was approached by Frank Chen, another old friend to the family. The two were speaking softly enough that Oliver couldn’t make out what was being said, but something again felt odd. He just couldn’t place it.

Up ahead, he spotted the back of Tommy’s head where he sat in the front row. His only companion looked to be a woman with long, dark hair, though Oliver could not distinguish any of her features from behind. He didn’t think he knew her, and he wondered how Tommy did, his mind briefly recalling what his friend had said about the girls at Oliver’s funeral being like fish in a barrel. He immediately dismissed the thought; Tommy would never use his own father’s funeral for a score. He felt he knew his friend that well at least.

Eventually his mother took her place beside Thea, and Chen found his own seat further back. The funeral conductor moved to the front and center of the gathering.

“We are here to remember and to commemorate the life of one of Starling City’s most dedicated humanitarians. A beloved husband, father and friend to many. There were few who were as passionate about the future of our home and our people as Malcolm Merlyn.”

The conductor championed Mr. Merlyn’s story; a young businessman who had come to Starling City because he saw the potential to prosper, and prosper he had. How he had met Rebecca Merlyn through his friends, Oliver’s parents, and how special their love had been. Merlyn Global, Tommy’s birth, Rebecca’s loss, the ways he had continued to give back in memory of her.

“It was another senseless act of violence that robbed the world of Malcolm Merlyn. But I am told that he died as he lived, protecting another. His son, Thomas Merlyn. Thomas asked not to speak today, but he wished it to be known that he intends to carry on his father’s legacy in all ways.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother shift, her throat tightening. Her eyes stayed fixed forward. Laurel sent him a questioning glance, but Oliver gave the smallest shake of his head. Here wasn’t the place to get into his mother’s strange behavior.

The ceremony closed, and one by one, everyone came up to the front to pay their respects. Oliver tried to think of the last words he exchanged with Mr. Merlyn; he truthfully hadn’t seen much of him since his return home. He had called out to him to keep moving that night of the attack, and his father’s old friend had nodded in understanding. If only it had been the right call to make.

“I got in an argument with him,” Laurel said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. “I went to dinner with him and Tommy, and we had a disagreement about his treatment of him.”

“Well, from what I know, Tommy and his father became pretty close by the end,” Oliver mused. “So maybe your argument helped more than you thought.”

Most of the guests were making their way to the house where tables with refreshment had been set up. Tommy, however, remained standing on the patio, nodding in acknowledgement or murmuring a quiet thanks to those mourners who addressed their condolences to him. As Oliver and Laurel approached, his eyes seemed to fix on them. Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on his friend’s face; it seemed like one of loathing.

Laurel took the lead in coming up to Tommy, hesitating for one moment before wrapping him into a hug. Tommy remained stiff and did not even attempt to return it. Oliver was more concerned with the woman who had sat next to Tommy at the service watching them from several feet back. Her gaze was cool and calculating, and the noticeable scar on her face had him wondering just who she was.

“Tommy, I’m so sorry,” Laurel said as she stepped back. “I know things between us — they didn’t end well, but I’m here for you. We both are,” she added, looking back at Oliver.

Oliver’s own words of comfort died on his lips when Tommy’s mouth twisted into something like a sneer. “A united front, just like the old days. I can see that’s not the only thing you coordinated. So how long after the breakup did that take?”

Oliver looked down. “What’s happened between Laurel and I is recent. It’s also not what today is about. You’ve lost your only family, and as your friends, we just want to support you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t really believe you, considering one more dead billionaire should just be another feather in your cap,” Tommy said. “Or hood, I guess.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single moment, and beside him, Laurel’s mouth dropped open. But he knew he had to try and deflect this — nothing about Tommy’s behavior right now said that confirming his suspicions was a good idea. If anything, Oliver’s own worst imaginings of his friend’s reaction were playing out in front of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try. I still have keys to the club. I’ve seen your little base of operations, Oliver.”

He had no idea what to say. That Tommy was essentially accusing him, and in front of a witness, what did that mean exactly? Was he planning to expose him?

“Oh, don’t mind Athena,” Tommy said, having followed his line of sight. “She’s my new partner. What I know, she knows.”

“You told her before even talking to Oliver?” Laurel didn’t bother to hide the outrage Oliver was beginning to feel beneath the shock and the panic.

“She’s been truthful with me unlike my supposed best friends,” Tommy shot back. “Were you ever planning to tell me, or were you waiting until my father was dead so I couldn’t warn him?”

“Tommy, your father was the humanitarian of the year,” Oliver reminded him. “He was never in any danger from the Hood.” It was the four of them only on the patio, yet he didn’t feel comfortable naming himself as the vigilante all the same.

Tommy eyed him, just the slightest bit of surprise on his face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

But his friend shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If you weren’t the one behind this, I’ll find out who was. _Someone_ hired the Triad.”

That brought Oliver up short. In the aftermath of the attack, he had never really thought to pursue that angle. Why had Mr. Merlyn been targeted? Who had wanted him dead in the first place? Who stood to gain?

“We can help you with that,” Laurel offered, looking back at him once to check that she wasn’t stepping over a line. He quickly nodded. “Oliver has contacts, resources.”

“Thanks, but I have my own now.”

“Tommy,” Oliver began, but stopped. He hated having to ask this. It scared him to ask. “What are you going to do about…”

“About what I know? Nothing. I like being alive,” Tommy said coldly.

Oliver drew back a step. He had never wanted this, one of his loved ones to look at him with utter loathing and revulsion. Even if it was what he deserved.

“You could have just asked him not to come if that’s how you feel,” Laurel said, and he noted dimly that her hands were clenched into fists. She was ready to fight.

“It’s how I would have expected _you_ to feel, given everything you used to believe in,” Tommy told her. “But he was always the exception, wasn’t he?”

“As it is, I believe you both should go,” the mysterious Athena said, walking up to Tommy’s side. Her voice was accented, but he couldn’t place the origin. “Thomas has guests and other matters to attend to.”

“That’s just fine.” Laurel turned and seized Oliver’s hand, marching him down the walk towards the front gates. She was seething, and Oliver didn’t know if her plan was to walk all the way back to his family’s home or to the Glades themselves.

“Let me call Digg,” he said, horrified to discover his voice sounded choked. Oliver blinked, and moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. He had known and feared since the night he had failed to save Malcolm what Tommy’s reaction might be. The reality was worse than anything he could prepare for.

Laurel waited for him to place the call, then stepped into his space and pulled him into a hug after he had put his phone away. He folded around her, needing this comfort more than ever. How could his oldest friend have changed so much? Or had Oliver simply been the one to change, and it was too much for Tommy to handle?

“We need to know more about this Athena,” he decided after an unknowable time. Wherever she had come from and why, she was exerting a powerful influence on Tommy that worried him. He had to know what her aim was, if only for his peace of mind regarding his friend.

\---

He had thought he would feel some sense of satisfaction or vindication. He didn’t.

Instead, Tommy had more questions than answers once again, a feeling he hated. If Oliver truly hadn’t known his father’s identity, then who had the Triad been working for that night? Who were they still working for?

Athena was convinced his father’s death was no accident or the result of a complication. “The waters I gave you are infallible. They heal, they do not cause further harm. Someone else must have acted to ensure your father’s demise.”

One of the people his father recruited. Probably they were inside the manor right now, playing the part of a mourner. It made his blood boil.

He retreated to his father’s office with Athena. It was high time to go through the files on what his father had called the Undertaking in full. It had waited too long already. Had he known the person behind the attack at the award ceremony would strike again, he wouldn’t have put it off. He could have saved his father. But he had always been a disappointment, hadn’t he?

 _I won’t fail you now, dad,_ Tommy thought to himself.

What truly interested him in the files was a folder his father had labeled _Insurance._ There he found documents detailing the crimes of each member of Starling City’s high society Tommy had always thought of as his father’s inner circle. Carl Ballard’s record of tax evasion; a voice recording of Robert Queen, confessing to involuntary manslaughter; and most importantly of all, Frank Chen’s connections to and dealings with the Triad.

“Shall I apprehend Mr. Chen?” Athena asked.

“Wait until everyone has gone home. I don’t want people thinking his disappearance is connected to my father.” Not yet, anyway. He wanted the facts before he did anything that might affect his father’s reputation, not when it was all he had left.

“Then I will go and prepare a site for the interrogation. I will inform you of the details.”

Tommy nodded, then wandered back down the hall towards the main room where the low murmur of voices waited. An interrogation. Since when had this become his life?

He supposed it had always been this way. Ever since he was eight years old, at least, and his mother had been ripped away from them. He had been shielded from the majority of the violence that surrounded them ever since, but it had never meant it wasn’t present. He just hadn’t been paying attention. He would have to work hard at catching up.

“Tommy, there you are,” said a familiar voice, and he found himself being hugged again, this time by Thea Queen. Sweet Thea, so innocent to everything happening around her the way he had once been. He pitied her and envied her in turn. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Thea. It’s not my first time losing a parent.”

“Yeah,” she agreed glumly. “Me neither. We, uh, just got the news the other night that Walter… he wasn’t taken. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it was the thing to say. He supposed he felt badly for her. Walter Steele had been more her father than Oliver’s, at any rate. But she still had her mother and brother, assuming the latter didn’t get himself killed out there on his ridiculous crusade.

“If you ever need to come over and like be around people, you know you can do that, right? You’re like family.”

“That’s kind of you, Thea. But I’ll be fine.” He left the young woman behind, his eyes scanning the room. It appeared Chen had already left. A guilty conscience? He’d know soon enough.

Athena called him late in the afternoon and relayed the address she had brought Chen to. When Tommy walked into the empty building — one of Hunt’s abandoned projects since his company had pretty much dissolved with his death — Athena was waiting with Chen bound to a chair, a black sack over his head. He nodded to her, and she ripped it off.

As Chen shook himself and blinked in the sudden light, Tommy slowly stepped forward. He wanted the man to see him now, to know what this was truly about.

Chen’s questioning gaze left Athena, and his eyes widened as he took Tommy in. “Tommy? What is this?”

“I think you know exactly what this is, Frank. The humanitarian award ceremony. Why did you hire the Triad to attack my father at it?”

Chen’s face had gone slack with despair as each word was spoken. “I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.” It was as if people thought he was born yesterday. Well, Tommy Merlyn had woken to the ways of the world now, and he wasn’t going to be made the fool ever again.

“I didn’t hire them! I only—”

“Only what?”

“Please, Tommy. You are not your father,” Chen begged. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything,” Tommy promised. “Athena’s going to take care of that for me.”

A vicious grin rose on her lips as she withdrew a dagger from her belt. Athena held it up to the light, studying Tommy for a few moments before turning sharply on her toes to cut Chen across the cheek. The man cried out, and Tommy swallowed while shoving his hands into his pockets not to show them trembling. Chen would do better to talk; Tommy didn’t want to watch him be tortured, but he needed the information he had more.

“What was your role in the attack!”

“I only… I gave her the right number to call.”

“Her?” There were two women in this Tempest, as the group had apparently called itself. Councilwoman Pollard and Mrs. Queen.

Chen’s eyes were on the ground. “Moira. It was Moira’s idea.”

He froze. “Mrs. Queen?”

“Yes. After the Hood’s attack on her, she decided things were getting too dangerous. She wanted out, and she was convinced that Malcolm… that your father’s death was the only way to achieve that.”

Tommy stood there, unable to say another word. Mrs. Queen had done this? The woman had been something of a mother to him since he had lost his own, as much as he had allowed her to be.

“She chose the location and the time for the assassination. When it did not work as intended, she told me that would be the end of it. That we would wait and see.”

“And did she?” He couldn’t stop his voice from shaking, but Tommy didn’t mind that so much. It was in anger, not fear, and he thought Chen could sense that. “Wait?”

“I do not know. I tried to ask her today at the memorial, but she would tell me nothing. If she acted, something must have changed. I can’t think what that would be, other than her husband.”

“Walter?” What did Walter have to do with any of this?

Chen looked up, his brow furrowed. “Yes. Malcolm was holding him. You- you do know what he was doing, what he was planning? You can’t agree with it, Tommy. Please.” Chen leaned forward a little, only to shrink back when Athena moved the knife under his neck. “You must see it is madness.”

His father had been holding Walter hostage. Thea had said they had received the news that Walter had died. But how could that be if his father hadn’t even been conscious?

He needed to know what had happened to Walter Steele. Tommy turned to Athena. “Keep him here.” Then he marched back out to his car.

He went to the penthouse office rather than the house for expediency's sake. Tommy knew it was only down to how organized his father had kept things that he was able to find what he was looking for. A live feed to a dark room containing one living occupant: Walter Steele.

He was alive. Which meant his father had died for nothing at all.

Tommy was speeding back down the streets to get back back to the abandoned building, his mind so caught up in his anger and grief that he did not notice at first that the siren going off behind him was for him. With an irritated snarl, he pulled over and smacked his hand on the steering wheel as he waited for the officer to take his good, sweet time.

“Sir, are you aware you were going fifteen over the speed limit tonight?”

“Are you aware that I don’t actually give a shit?” He glared up at the man who gulped upon seeing his face. “Are you really going to give a man a ticket the night he had to lay his father to rest, Officer Brock?”

“No, Mr. Merlyn. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure you were driving safe.”

He smirked. “Thanks.” Tommy waited just long enough for the officer to step back before peeling away from the curb.

His fists were clenched tight enough he could feel his nails digging into the skin by the time he returned to find Athena standing guard over Chen while sharpening her knife. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall. “Walter Steele is still alive! So why did she do it?”

“I- I don’t know. I would tell you if I did.” The blood from his cut had dried on his cheek, a couple droplets staining the white collar of his shirt.

“If this man is useless to us, I can dispose of him and acquire the woman,” Athena offered, and Chen shuddered.

“No,” Tommy said. “Not yet. Mrs. Queen — _Moira_ ,” he corrected himself. She no longer deserved the respect. “Is a special case. We’ll need to be careful.”

The moment she was taken, Oliver would act. Oliver made this whole thing far more complicated than it needed to be, and the fact that his mother’s entire assassination plan had been precipitated by Oliver’s attack on her was all the more infuriating. If not for Oliver, his father would be alive!

There could be no physical harm brought against Moira Queen unless her son wasn’t an issue. And Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to test Athena against Oliver. She claimed to be an elite fighter and had displayed a number of skills casually enough that he believed her, but the Hood had fought off impossible odds time and again this year. He had survived Tommy’s father, even. Striking out against Oliver would attract Laurel’s ire in turn as well, and while she was nowhere near the threat that Oliver presented, Tommy knew if it came to it, he could not harm her. Not physically.

But Moira was guilty. In her case, he might not have found himself so squeamish as to his father and Athena’s old ways. It just meant he would have to get creative, was all. One way or another, Moira Queen would receive retribution. This boiling rage inside of him would never cease unless she did.

“She just wanted the Undertaking to end,” Chen begged. His voice sounded a little hoarse. It had probably been hours since he had water. “The threats against our families—”

“If you wanted the Undertaking to be over, you would have turned my father over to the authorities. But you didn’t want your precious lives to be ruined by your own part in his plan,” Tommy told him coldly. “That’s what we’re all about in the elite high society circles, aren’t we? Appearances. Don’t try to pretend you cared what was going to happen to the Glades.”

“But you care. You’re not- you’re young, Tommy. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re an innocent in all this. You don’t have to continue what Malcolm started.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Athena looked at him sharply, but Tommy ignored her for the moment. She would see what he meant. An idea was slowly starting to form in his mind, something that might take care of his revenge on Moira _and_ the matter of those earthquake devices sitting at Unidac Industries…

“Because you’re right. I’m not like my father.” Tommy paced away from Chen as he spoke. “My father cared about the Glades. Whatever you think of his methods, he wanted them to improve. You could even say he and the Hood were alike in that way.”

When he turned around to look, Chen was staring at him open-mouthed, stuck as if unsure whether to keep up his pathetic pleading. Athena was watching him, and he could not decide if she was doing so cautiously or curiously.

“I’m not,” Tommy announced plainly. “I have no grand plans or compassion for the Glades or its people. I’ve known since I was eight years old they can’t be saved. So I’m not going to.”

“Thomas.” Athena jerked her head towards the hallway. Tommy scowled, but followed her out. “You said you would uphold your father’s legacy.”

“And I will. But dad… nothing in his plans accounts for people who may work in, but not live in the Glades. Glades Memorial hospital is still open. The beat cops that patrol at night. It’s too imprecise, and I’m not comfortable with it. Should you really be?”

Athena blinked at him, the closest to surprised he had ever seen her.

“You told me you were going against what the people who taught you and my father stood for. We don’t have to do that. We can do things their way, seek their help.”

She frowned. “The League itself is weak. The Demon Head grows old, and has failed to secure a worthy line of succession. But I can teach you their ways and principles on my own.”

“Alright.” He didn’t mind the idea of training, in all honesty. Once he had gotten his revenge on Moira, he would be making an enemy of Oliver. Knowing how to defend himself was crucial.

“What of your father’s killer?”

“I have a plan for her.” The beginnings of one, at the least. He would need to perfect the details before he moved forward with it, but once he did, he wondered if his father might have been proud in some small measure. “We don’t need Chen any more.”

“I will need to silence him,” Athena said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “He is duplicitous and knows you will be moving against Moira Queen. He cannot warn her in advance, or you will lose her.”

She was right. And who was to say if Moira learned what he knew that Tommy wouldn’t find himself with a poisoned bullet in his chest next? Chen had Triad ties. That made him just as dirty as any of the people Oliver had killed this year. Probably more so. Why should he mourn a man who was party to his own father’s murder?

He drew in a breath through his nose and nodded. “Do it.”

Athena nodded back and slipped back into the room. Tommy turned and walked away down the hall, hearing the muffled _thump_ of a body hit the floor. He knew what that sound was ever since he’d watched his own father fall.

It wasn’t retribution, not just yet. But it was close. And it wouldn’t be much longer now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you have been anticipating this next chapter, and I hope that it delivers a couple more suprises before we head into what will basically be this rewrite's version of a season 1 finale. I do want to make mention that my name-dopping of Councilwoman Pollard as another member of Tempest in last week's chapter is based off a headcanon of ArylssTolero, a fellow writer and friend I am glad to have made in the Lauriver discord. Many thanks again for allowing me to borrow that idea, Arylss! With that said, thank you all as well for continuing to read and please enjoy!

Laurel was still having trouble processing what had happened at the memorial.

On some level, she knew Tommy’s dislike of the Hood wouldn’t mean good things if he ever found out Oliver’s identity, but to hear the words that had come out of his mouth that day had been another thing entirely. Where had that boy with the devil-may-care smile gone? Had she done this to him?

Laurel wasn’t naive enough to assume she was the only reason for Tommy’s new outlook and attitude. Her friend had always had an anger under the surface for what had happened to his mother, what his father hadn’t been able to be for him. There wasn’t anything she could have done to change those things, and so she had let it be. But maybe that had been wrong. She and Oliver had failed to be there for him, no matter their reasons for it, and now he apparently didn’t want or need their help. Who did they have to blame for it but themselves?

She was tackling Oliver’s salmon ladder today. The nice thing about his setup down here was that there was plenty of new things for her to learn that weren’t in the classes she had taken in self-defense, from Ted or with Anita. She was going to keep learning whatever she could get access to, because if she couldn’t help her friend then she would do everything she could to be ready to help others.

Oliver and Diggle sparred down below on the mats. After giving her a demonstration and watching her get up onto the first rung by herself, Oliver had left her to it. She liked that about them. One good thing about the distance they had had the last few months and her suiting up on her own was that he’d already realized she could handle things. For her part, Laurel knew that if she couldn’t, he and John were ready and willing to help out.

Laurel breathed in and out once on the top rung, her legs swinging back and forth in a slow, controlled manner, before she prepared to head back down. A _beep_ from the computers distracted her, even more so when Oliver called out a halt to Digg and headed over.

She exchanged a look with the other man before hurrying to get back down, almost missing the last rung with the bar. She grabbed her water and towel and walked over. 

“Something about Athena turn up?”

“No,” Oliver said with a frown. She could tell it was bothering him, the lack of information on this woman who had replaced them both as Tommy’s confidant. “It’s the worm I sent into the SCPD’s computer system.”

Laurel felt both eyebrows raise. “You infiltrated the police’s computers?”

“Not the first time we’ve hacked them,” Diggle informed her.

“In my defense, this time was on your father’s orders,” Oliver added. “He’s worried about corruption and asked me to look into things.”

She was torn between laughing or screaming. “Okay, so my father, who had me surrounded by a SWAT team for asking you to help me on a case… wants you to help him on a case.”

Oliver blinked. “Uh… yup.”

“I can’t believe him!” Okay, maybe the anger was winning out. “He is such a hypocrite!” Even if she was at peace with how her life turned out, it wasn’t like it had been fun to get shot with a rubber bullet and lose her job, all for the exact thing her father was doing right now. It wasn’t like she wanted those things to happen to him, too, just some acknowledgement that maybe she hadn’t been wrong to do it. That there was a need in this city for vigilantes.

That he might not be angry if he ever found out what she was doing now.

“Trouble is, looks like he’s right,” said Diggle, who had taken possession of the mouse and was clicking through some of the data this data worm of Oliver’s had been collecting. “Look at this stuff from Nudocerdo’s time. Missing or deleted files on police misconduct, no records of disciplinary action, which means they either didn’t discipline anybody or they don’t want people to know if an officer’s been disciplined.”

“Lucky for us, it looks like Nudocerdo’s personal devices were connected up to the police systems at some point before he was fired. The worm got into them, too. Let’s take a look at his campaign finances.”

Laurel stopped pacing in order to come stand at Oliver’s side. He rubbed a hand up and down her back once in a show of comfort which she appreciated, especially since she was sweaty so it couldn’t have been very pleasant.

“You seeing what I see?” John asked a minute later.

“Yep,” Oliver answered grimly. “Tempest.”

“And what is Tempest exactly?” Laurel asked.

Oliver blanched, and Diggle sighed and looked down. “We should’ve told you this…”

“Told me what?”

“The reason Oliver agreed to interrogating his mother as the Hood,” Digg stated. “It was cause we found out she’d recovered the Queen’s Gambit wreckage, and it proved the boat wasn’t destroyed in the storm. It was sabotaged.”

Laurel felt her mouth drop open. “Sara wouldn’t have died out there?”

“Not if the boat hadn’t been targeted, no,” Oliver said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

She stepped back, trying to reconcile this was the anger and grief and the slow sense of a new normal she had been building for herself. Her sister had been murdered. Not intentionally — in fact, she probably hadn’t even been a thought in the perpetrator’s mind. But she could have come home. They could have had it out, the betrayal and all it had done. So much could have been different; maybe her whole life. Sara would have _had_ a life.

“Laurel?” Oliver was hanging back, clearly unsure what he should do given the subject.

“It’s fine,” she said out loud, even if it wasn’t. But they were here to work. She could deal with her feelings in her own time. “What’s this got to do with Tempest?”

“It was the name of the shell company she used to pay to have the boat moved and stored somewhere. It’s been destroyed since,” John added before she could ask. “And it looks like Tempest also made regular contributions to Nudocerdo while he was Commissioner.”

“So he wasn’t just bad at his job, he was dirty,” Laurel concluded. “What about the other cops? The detectives, captains? How many of them can we tell are on the take?”

“I’ll have to comb through the files the worm grabbed. It’s gonna takes while,” Oliver said with a grimace. “I don’t think I can patrol tonight.”

He had gone out the last couple with her as she had been showing him her own method. Looking for crime as it happened rather than setting out for a predetermined target. Laurel couldn’t tell if he liked the imprecise nature of it or not, but she didn’t think he was saying this to get out of it.

“Maybe we could see if Felicity wants back in now that we know Tempest is still involved,” Diggle suggested.

“It’s not about Walter, so I don’t see why it would interest her,” Oliver replied. “And I’d rather not risk her feeling pressured.”

He’d been touchy about the amount of people who knew his identity and what they might do with it since the memorial. Laurel couldn’t blame him. It had to feel like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s okay, I can do a solo one tonight.”

She started to walk over to her bag where she’d stored the black, gray and dark blue clothing she typically fought in, though Oliver called out to her.

“Laurel, are you gonna be okay?”

She looked back at him. “Yeah, Ollie. Just as soon as we figure out what Tempest really is and what they’re up to.”

Just how Mrs. Queen was mixed up with them? Was she Tempest or was she under their thumb? Laurel couldn’t get a read on Oliver or what he might be thinking about his mother. Did they need to question her again? And if they did, should Oliver really be the one in charge of it? She didn’t doubt he wanted the answers as much as she or John, but this was his _mother_. It would be hard for anything to think objectively in that situation.

She went into the back to change and headed out for the streets. Oliver had indeed upgraded her motorcycle, which had been quicker for him to do than the suit he claimed he was getting her custom made from a few different sources in order to avoid it being tracked. In some ways, she felt a little miffed that her version of things was being deemed inadequate, but Laurel knew that was pride over practicality. This was dangerous work, and it was better to have the best quality tools and materials available. 

And it wasn’t as if the stuff she had put together on her own was going totally to waste. She had kept the bike she had bought for cheap for her day job, which made getting to work quicker and also opened up the possibility for her to make deliveries. Pam had been delighted by the suggestion; a couple of her older customers couldn’t always find someone to drive them to the store, and this way new seeds, pots or plants could be delivered straight to them.

She refocused on the present as she came across a mugging, quickly driving off the attacker with the roar of her bike and her collapsible staff.

“Where were you trying to get to?” She asked the boy who had been held up. He was pale with dark blonde hair kept fairly long, sort of a bohemian-type.

“My apartment. It’s just up that way,” he said with a nod. “But thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Laurel kept up her patrol, sending a couple men running from a car parked on the street they’d been trying to jack. She was finding that with her swift approach on the bike, it tended to increase her intimidation factor. That or her reputation was growing. Maybe it was a little of both, and that thought made her grin. She had gotten her own police sketch, after all, she’d been amused to find out when John told her. That made her pretty official.

It also made her her dad’s problem to target. Assuming he was even doing that thing anymore. Dirty cops or no, this sort of thing he was doing with the Hood was so beyond what she ever would’ve thought him capable of.

Or what if it wasn’t? What if it was just another ruse, an attempt to lure Ollie into a trap? _That_ sounded more like her father. He would never ask a vigilante for help; he’d deal with the dirty cops situation on his own. What had even caused him to realize it? Maybe he’d been making it up, only for Oliver’s computer virus to lend credence to it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp whistle. Laurel glared at the mirror before catching sight of the red hoodie in its reflection. Her annoyance disappeared as she pulled the bike around and followed Roy Harper into an alley.

“Nice ride,” he commented. “Pretty sure it’s out of your price range.”

“Yes, well the Hood and I have come to an agreement of sorts.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “You’re not just working for him now.”

“We’re working together. I thought you’d be happy about this,” she remarked. “The more the Hood and I work together, the better chance I have of bringing you in on things.”

“Yeah, I mean, I do want in,” Roy agreed, scuffing his shoe on the ground. “But people need you here, you know? Stopping the small stuff. The things he doesn’t always notice.”

Laurel hesitated. She had heard more than once from people in the Glades that while they may have no objections to what the Hood did, that it wasn’t really reaching them where they lived. They weren’t exactly wrong, but there was so much about the situation they couldn’t know, that she and Oliver and John didn’t even fully know yet.

“I think he’s noticing more all the time,” she finally answered, which was the truth. Whatever her own indignation towards her father, Laurel couldn’t have imagined the Oliver of two months ago let alone last year getting involved with systemic corruption in their city’s police force. “But don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. And I did ask him about you. He’s thinking about it.”

“Thanks,” Roy said. “Guess I should get out of here before anyone spots me with you.” He pulled his hood down further over his eyes and slipped back out into the main street. Laurel sat back on the bike seat to wait a while before heading back out there herself.

Roy’s words remained on her mind, however. What did she look like to the people who had noticed her in the Glades, zipping around on her top-of-the-line bike? Some kind of sellout? As much as she appreciated Oliver giving her access to better equipment and gear, she didn’t want people to think she was losing sight of what she had set out to do.

“That’s really what people think about me?”

She jumped, one arm already pulling back to deliver a punch before her mind caught up to the familiar voice. Laurel blinked at Oliver in surprise. “I thought you weren’t coming out tonight.”

“I ended up showing John what to look for in the files. He said he could handle it.” Oliver walked closer to her. “He also thought I should see how you were really feeling about everything.”

Laurel sighed, leaning forward on the handlebars. “What do you want me to say? I already knew my sister was dead. Now I know someone was indirectly responsible. Are you ever going to ask your mother who?”

He looked down, the hood he wore hiding his eyes. “I should. I just… something has been off about her ever since I came home. And especially since we got the news about Walter. I guess I’ve been afraid to find out what that is. I already know my father wasn’t who I thought he was. If my mother…”

Laurel reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. In a way, she understood. After losing her mother all those years ago, she had been desperate to keep the peace with her father and probably put up with more warning signs than it was worth instead of forcing them both to acknowledge his problems. “Our parents are going to disappoint us at times. Sometimes in a bigger way than most people go through.” She doubted many people had to deal with their father using them as bait for a SWAT operation gone wrong, after all. “But it doesn’t mean the things you know about them suddenly stop mattering. Whatever else, your father loved you. Your mother loves you. And if you still want her in your life, I think you can make that happen. But ignoring the problem isn’t how to do it.”

He nodded with a sigh. “Soon as I help your father, I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

His lips pulled up in a half-smile. “Maybe not, but it isn’t exactly a part of your mission.”

“My ‘mission’, if we’re calling it that, is to help people. And you fall under that category,” she reminded him with a prod to his shoulder. “You’ve been doing things my way the last couple of nights. It’s only fair I return the favor. And that starts with my dad’s thing.” If he thought she was sitting on the sidelines while her dad got involved in all this, he had another thing coming.

Oliver was silent for a moment, which had her narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“Your father… he’s hoping by resolving this issue, it will mean the city won’t need people like you or me. That things can go back to normal.” He frowned. “But seeing how widespread the corruption is, everything with Tommy and my mother, I don’t know how it can.”

“And normal isn’t exactly a good thing,” Laurel pointed out.

They both looked up at the sound of a scream from what sounded a few blocks away. A depressingly _normal_ sound in the Glades.

“No, it isn’t,” Oliver agreed grimly. He raised his bow and fired a grapple arrow. Laurel gunned the engine of her bike, and they each took off toward the sound.

Whatever came next in their personal lives, acting in the face of injustice had become their new normal. And as far as Laurel was concerned, that was definitely a good thing.

\---

Quentin started in his chair early that morning when a phone in his desk drawer started buzzing. It was the vigilante phone, which meant he really shouldn’t answer it inside. He quickly stood, doing his best to avoid Hilton’s questioning look as he headed out of the bullpen and out into the back alley. He was lucky enough to find it free of anyone on their smoke break. Finally, he answered the call.

“Yeah?”

 _“I have the information you requested, Detective,”_ the archer’s modulated voice spoke. _“When and where can I deliver it to you?”_

He had a feeling the vigilante wouldn’t react well to an immediate request, considering how light it was outside. Harder to hide in the shadows when they weren’t nearly so deep. “Uh… tonight. Down by the docks. Eleven?”

 _“I’ll be there.”_ With that, the line disconnected.

Quentin let out a breath. Tonight. He would know just which members of the force he was part of were dirty and which weren’t. He could take the information to Pike — at least, he hoped his gut was right that Pike was one of the good ones — and they could start cleaning house and getting this city back on track the right way.

He went back to his apartment to sleep off the night shift, showered and got some food in him. Then it was all down to waiting, which felt like an eternity rather than the few hours he knew it logically was.

Quentin took his own car rather than one of the squad cars, seeing as it would attract less attention. He kept his badge tucked away for that reason as well as he made his way down to the docks. He found a stack of crates to wait by that kept him mostly shielded from the lane trucks traveled up and down picking up or dropping off shipments. Not that there was much of that going on just now, but better to be safe than sorry.

Quentin kept checking his watch. He’d shown up early, sure, but it was already five past and no sign of him. What exactly was going on here?

“Seems your friend isn’t showing, Quentin.”

He startled as a flashlight beam hit him and straightened up. “Captain Stein.”

His superior raised a hand, the signal, he realized, for a number of SWAT lead by Warner to move in, surrounding him. Quentin raised his hands; he’d be a fool to reach for his gun now.

“Just what is this?” He knew he hadn’t been followed, so where had all of them come from?

“Ever since one of the copycat’s arrows disappeared from evidence, I knew we had a leak,” Stein stated, an underlying smugness in his tone. “And given your possession of a phone with a direct line to the Hood, you were the most obvious candidate. So I ordered Brock to take it out of your desk to have Crosby in CSU put some additional spyware on it. You could say your maneuver with your daughter inspired me,” the man added with a smirk.

Quentin’s blood ran cold as he noticed Brock standing there with his weapon raised alongside Hester, Lopez and — least surprising of all — Daily. These weren’t really his people, not besides Warner, and given the harsh glare she was directing his way, he didn’t think he’d see any leniency from her. The lack of Hall, despite her recruitment to the anti-vigilante task force nearly two months ago now, told him that this was Stein’s own hand-picked crew.

“We weren’t able to crack the encryption to follow the calls back to their source, unfortunately,” Stein continued on. “But I’ll consider bringing you in just one step closer to bringing down these vigilantes.”

Denying what he had been doing would get him nowhere, so Quentin didn’t even bother. “Look, I am trying to do the same thing. By tackling the problems that created the Hood and those like him in the first place. Bringing him in by force wasn’t working.”

“Because you lacked the conviction to do what was necessary. It’s why I had Daily join the Winick Building raid.”

Quentin’s breath stuttered in his chest. “You put him there so he’d shoot my _daughter_?” The younger officer was smirking where he stood, and if there weren’t a dozen guns pointed at him, he might have gone for the cocky bastard.

“You’ve failed to handle the situation objectively, Detective. Things were running just fine before this vigilante menace showed up, and I intend to see it return to that no matter who gets in the way!”

_“Because your backers at Tempest have an interest in seeing it return to business as usual.”_

Quentin had never been so relieved to hear the vigilante’s altered voice. Apparently the guy hadn’t pulled a no-show after all.

Two flechettes were thrown into the wrists of Warner and Hester, both of whom dropped their weapons. There were a couple grunts as Quentin caught movement near the back-left of the group; two of the men had fallen down. A few more of them turned, and it was this break in the formation that allowed him to glimpse a woman standing up from a crouched sweep kick, her fists raised. Dressed in black and dark blue with a mask and long, blonde hair, Quentin knew this could only be the Woman of the Glades.

This break in the formation gave the Hood time to rappel down from the roof of the warehouse he’d been waiting on top of, though Quentin didn’t watch to see where he landed as he was busy ducking around the crates to avoid Stein’s gunfire.

He quickly got out his own handgun and raised it, peering around the side to locate his enemy. Stein had moved back, out of reach of the Hood’s blows as he engaged both Daily and Lopez at once. 

The Woman had gotten possession of one of the SWAT shields and was using it as a battering ram on one side while she swung a staff with her free hand, throwing men twice her size to the ground. Quentin watched, however, as Cutter — the department’s first ever female SWAT member, battered the Woman back with her own shield. The Woman stumbled but kept her feet, her head giving a dazed shake for a moment. The two then circled each other before each charged.

Quentin circled around the other side of the crates, doing his best to crouch low in the hopes of getting the drop on Stein. The captain noticed him at the last second, forcing Quentin into a drop and roll as he fired on him.

“Attacking your own, Lance?”

“Trying to put a stop to this before anyone’s seriously hurt!” He called back. These people would have had enough evidence on him to arrest him at the station, but they’d waited to stage a sting operation with the clear intent of getting him and the Hood, and he doubted they’d stop at the Woman, since she’d been good enough to show. There weren’t rubber bullets in those guns, either, and judging by Stein’s attempt on his life just now, the order was shoot to kill.

An arrow sailed through the night and hit Stein’s gun, making him drop it. Quentin charged forward, knocking the older man to the ground and rolling him onto his chest. He wrenched Stein’s arms behind his back and got out his cuffs.

“If you’ve been listening to that phone since the Winick Building, then you could’ve shown up to catch him at Merlyn Global. But you didn’t, because it wasn’t personal yet, was it? You got nervous when I asked him for help rooting out corruption. Well, I’m gonna look through the evidence, find out just what this Tempest is and then it’ll be over for you _and_ them!”

He looked up to take stock on the situation. Officers were either knocked out or tied up with those cable arrow things. The Hood was lifting Cutter up and away from the Woman, who had a split lip. She hauled back and punched the SWAT officer right in the face.

Quentin stood up. “Hey!” He didn’t need them doing that!

The Woman startled and looked away from him, her shoulders hunched. There was something almost sheepish in the gesture. He could also see a small tear in the shoulder of her jacket.

The Hood placed Cutter back on the ground considering she was knocked out cold. Then he walked over towards Quentin, his head ducked to avoid showing much more than his chin.

_“This flash drive contains everything you’ll need.”_

Quentin took it with a nod of thanks. He couldn’t help noticing that the Woman was already retreating back towards where he could just see the handlebar of a motorbike sticking out from the shadow of a building. Even less talkative than the Hood, apparently. Though that didn’t match the scant reports about her they’d gotten.

Before the Hood could take his leave as well, Quentin gestured towards her retreating form. “So is this, uh, a regular thing now?”

_“It won’t be easy cleaning up the corruption and its effects on this city, Detective. You’ll need people like me and her for a while yet.”_

It was the opposite of what he had wanted to hear tonight. But the one comfort he could draw was that the Hood sounded far from smug about it. He likely longed for the days when this city wouldn’t need him, too.

“Alright. I better call this in.” He turned away to get out his radio and heard the Hood depart. Now what the hell was he going to say about all this exactly? Best thing to do, request Hilt and see what he thought.

Predictably, his partner felt Quentin had landed them in a whole heap of trouble. “Even if what’s on that flash drive is a hundred percent genuine, you did agree to meet with a vigilante to get it, Quentin. What are we supposed to say to Pike about that?”

“Pike’s gonna have to accept that cops on some special interest group’s payroll is a bigger problem.”

Sooner than he would have liked, they had more officers on the scene to help get the injured parties treatment and to bring Stein, at the very least, in. It turned out he hadn’t put this little raid on the books, so it wasn’t only Quentin who would be answering some awkward questions.

To his great relief, Kelton took the flash drive. He made the CSU promise to guard it with his life. Quentin didn’t doubt that Crosby or someone else in on all this would love to make it disappear.

He sat waiting inside Pike’s office for the rest of that night, waiting for his direct superior to go through all of the evidence and question who he needed to. Quentin knew this probably didn’t look great for him, but he also knew he had done the right thing, and if he could just convince Frank of that, then maybe he might walk out of here a free man.

His real phone buzzed with a text just as the early light of dawn was creeping in through the window. Quentin glanced at it, saw Laurel’s name, and sat up to rub at his eyes. It read _how’s everything?_

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Somehow his girl always knew when to check on him. He considered it a good thing Laurel was actually reaching out considering they’d still only made a few halting attempts each to patch things up. Quentin wrote back, _long night, but fine_. At least he hoped it would be. But considering he hadn’t been hauled into a holding cell yet, he had hope.

Like a summons, the thought was immediately followed by Pike opening the door to his office and coming around to his side of the desk. A large folder was under his arm that he set down and opened.

“Quentin,” his long-time superior sighed. “This would’ve been easier if you would have just come to me.”

“Maybe, but sir, I did point out my concerns about Daily in particular to you, which you said you couldn’t do anything about. Now we both know why. Stein was protecting his man.”

“But a vigilante? The same vigilante you told me you didn’t want to give up hunting even when I scaled back the taskforce!”

He winced. “Things… changed. I realized I needed someone independent to look into what was going on here. What did Kelton find on that flash drive? Did it say what this Tempest is?”

“I already know what Tempest is,” Frank answered.

That caused his mouth to snap shut for a moment. “What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

“I mean I was informed about this Tempest just this past evening,” the Lieutenant clarified. “If I’d known it related to the vigilante case, I would have called you in.”

Quentin sat back. “Well, hang on, what is it really about?”

“It appears there is a group of the city’s most wealthy who got together to form a bloq,” Pike explained. He passed over the file, and Quentin took it, flipping through. The bribes were there, though not just to the SCPD. As he continued reading, he also came upon a record of property purchases in the Glades. “They’ve been behind a lot of the decisions made in the last several years, deciding what they think is best. And I have to warn you, Quentin, their end goal is… I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it.”

He flipped another page and came upon schematics. Bomb schematics.

“What the… what the hell were they doing with this?”

“Nothing, yet. We were informed about this with enough time to do something. Now that you and, well, the vigilantes, have taken care of the people on the inside here that were working for them, we’ve got the upper hand. Now my source has identified the ringleader of this high society club, and I’m sending you and Hilton with backup to make the arrest.” Frank leaned forward. “You pull this off, Quentin, and no one’s going to care who you’ve been enlisting off the books. We’ll be heroes.”

He opened his mouth to tell his superior to get on with it and tell him who they were bringing in, but then he turned the final page. Quentin froze, his eyes widening.

“I’ll be damned…”

He should have known.

\---

Thea relaxed on her bed, taking full advantage of the day off from community service. She was enjoying CNRI more now that Joanna was back and they occasionally actually did stuff, but she wouldn’t be a normal teenager if she wanted to work every single day. Besides, she had a kind of special event planned.

Thea was finally introducing her newly-christened boyfriend Roy to her mother. Thea had never bothered running her previous relationships past her mom, partly because she’d thought she hadn’t cared and partly because Thea hadn’t wanted it to be anyone’s business but hers. But if Walter’s loss had reminded her of anything, it was that you never knew how long you had with family. And truthfully, she thought it might bring her mom some comfort to know that Thea had someone special in her life.

She’d bullied Ollie into promising he would actually show for this since he had a bad habit of ditching family functions at the last second. It had helped that she had pointed out he and Laurel had ditched them at Mr. Merlyn’s memorial, and thus she and their mom hadn’t had the chance to catch up with what appeared to be a rekindling of their own relationship. So Oliver was supposed to be bringing both Laurel and Roy over to the manor.

Thea heard the sound of tires on the drive, so she quickly got up, checked her hair in the mirror and then raced out of her room and down the steps. Just as she reached the foyer, she heard a knock on the other side of the front door. That was weird, unless Ollie was making Roy knock in some stupid big brother intimidation routine.

She wrenched open the door, the smile freezing on her face when she found not her boyfriend, brother and his girlfriend waiting for her, but Detective Lance and his partner Hilton. Both officers grimaced at the sight of her.

“Is something wrong?”

“Where is your mother, Miss Queen?” Detective Hilton asked calmly. Thea couldn’t help noticing, however, that there was another car and two more officers waiting further down the drive.

“She’s, uh—”

“I’m right here.” When she turned around, she saw her mother descending the stairs in an outfit she called her ‘casual best’. Thea had already told her Roy had never had much money. “Can I help you with something, officers?”

Thea watched as Lance gave a shake of his head. “Let’s not drag this out in front of your daughter, alright? You’re coming downtown with us.”

“Wait, _what_?” Thea asked, only to be forced back as both Lance and Hilton pushed their way through the door, Hilton taking out a pair of handcuffs.

“You must be very mistaken,” her mother said gravely, though Thea couldn’t help noticing how very pale she looked.

“Not unless the thing we found them building at Unidac was actually a piñata,” Lance quipped. “Moira Queen, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, murder, conspiracy to commit murder, hiring an assassin, and conspiracy to commit mass murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“ _Murder_?” Thea echoed, somehow both hoarse and shrill at the same time. “No, no that’s crazy.”

“Miss Queen, if you could stay back,” Detective Hilton requested, gently buffeting her aside when she tried to move towards her mother, who had frozen in shock and only started moving when Lance marched her along with one hand under her arm.

“Mom!”

“Stay- stay in the house, baby,” her mother called over her shoulder.

Thea followed them out to the front stoop, her hands pressing to either side of her head as she watched them put her unresisting mother into the back of a squad car and drive away. The other two officers came inside and went up the steps, heading in the direction of her mother’s office.

How could this be happening again? Was she going insane with her life just repeating itself in circles? Her dad dying, Walter dying; Oliver being arrested for murder, her mother being arrested for murder. And how did that make any sense?

What was she supposed to do? Did she call Jean? Ollie? Thea sunk down onto the front step, her knees to her chest as cries were choked out of her.

How could everything have changed so fast and so horribly?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you very much for your patience on this chapter. It was supposed to be uploaded last weekend, but I was preoccupied running the Lauriver Holiday week event. I hope you all had the chance to enjoy the works that were submitted by the various content creators who participated. But, I believe that things have been left on last chapter's cliffhanger long enough for this story, so we will forge on with the penultimate update. Enjoy!

Oliver couldn’t find it in him to try and intimidate his sister’s boyfriend as they drove the twenty miles out of the city to his family’s manor. For one thing, Laurel was keeping up a steady chatter with Roy since the two were friends of a kind, and for another, his mind was too preoccupied with the talk he planned to have with his mother once the visit with Roy had concluded. It was long past time to get to the bottom of his mother’s involvement with Tempest, especially now that he knew for himself how entrenched the company was in the city’s institutions. The campaign contributions to Councilman Kullens and Councilwoman Pollard alone were damning.

He had not turned over to Lance what he knew about his mother’s involvement or the _Gambit_ because he wanted to give her the chance to come clean first. He had to hope that she would. As much as it would hurt him, Thea would be even worse off if he was forced to turn his mother in just two weeks after the news about Walter.

“Mrs. Queen really isn’t as scary as she might seem,” Laurel was coaching Roy. She had put on a white sundress for the occasion with a jean jacket. Her favorite leather jacket that had been torn in the fight with Stein’s people was in her friend Anita’s trusted care, as the woman said she knew how to repair tears in leather. 

“Her main thing is that her children are safe and happy, and since Thea seems pretty happy with you, you have nothing to worry about.”

Roy, for his part, wore his black work pants and a red button-up shirt, probably the nicest clothes he owned. A vase of what Oliver was pretty sure were tulips sat on his lap, courtesy of Green Glades, as Laurel and Pam had helped the young man pick out a hostess gift.

Oliver couldn’t help a soft smile as he watched Laurel continue to talk out of the corner of his eye and thought about the circle of friends and neighbors she had built for herself since moving to the Glades. The cautious, embittered woman wary of letting anyone in that he had found when he returned from the island was gone, and Laurel’s giving heart was once more on full display. She had, to pardon the pun, flourished in the face of adversity.

“Now what are you smiling about?” She asked slyly, whether sensing his gaze or just noticing him, he wasn’t sure.

“Just had a funny thought, that’s all. You’d hate it, it was a dumb joke.”

“Yeah?”

He was about to reply, but Oliver frowned as a cop car raced past them going in the opposite direction. Roy tensed up in the backseat as they passed.

“No sirens,” Laurel murmured. “Maybe a dispute they settled at one of the manors out here?”

“Maybe.” An uneasy feeling settled in his gut, solidifying as they pulled into the drive and he spotted Thea’s hunched form on the steps, the front door wide open. A second cop car was still pulled off to the side, though the officers were nowhere in sight.

Oliver threw the car into park and was out the door, Roy right on his heels. Laurel met them around the other side. “Thea?”

His sister looked up and flung herself into his arms as soon as he reached her, sobbing into his shoulder. Oliver looked around, trying to spot some sort of source for whatever had caused this kind of distress. He noticed Raisa enter the doorway, drying her hands on a towel.

Laurel saw her, too, and walked up to his family’s maid. “Raisa, did you see what happened?”

The older woman shook her head. “No, I was finishing icing the coffee cake, but I heard raised voices. There are officers upstairs, but I did not find Mrs. Queen.”

“They took her,” Thea said in a shattered voice. 

Oliver looked down, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “The police?”

“The police. Detective Lance,” she added, spitting the name out. Laurel winced. “He’s accusing her of _murder_ just like he did to you, Ollie. Why can’t he leave our family alone?”

Oliver swallowed. It was obvious Thea was angry and didn’t believe Lance’s accusation in the least, yet he couldn’t share her certainty given the little that he knew. His mother, after all, had covered up the _Gambit_ wreckage. But that hadn’t been because she was involved. It wouldn’t make sense.

“Look we’ll- we’ll head down to the station, okay? Get this sorted out.”

“I’ll talk to my father,” Laurel promised, coming back down the steps and laying a hand on Thea’s back. “See what has him acting like this this time.” She met Oliver’s eyes, and they shared a significant look. Whatever Lance’s intel was, Laurel was their best way of getting a hold of it short of using another worm on the SCPD’s systems.

“He said s-something about Unidac,” Thea told them, wiping at her eyes and clearly trying to calm herself down. “The company Walter bought last fall.”

“Excuse us, ma’am.” Two officers carrying what looked like his mother’s computer monitor and hard drive stepped past Raisa through the front door.

“Why do you need her stuff?” Roy asked, scowling at the officers.

“This is an ongoing investigation, young man. These have to go downtown, and that’s all we’re allowed to say about it.”

“We’re coming downtown with you,” Oliver told them firmly, and the officers seemed to know better than to argue. “Speedy, I have to drive, so…” He slowly extricated himself from his sister’s hold and gestured Roy forward. Roy seemed to not know what to do with the vase in his hands now that he was also being given charge of his girlfriend.

Thea’s hand went up to her mouth and a half-laugh, half-sob left her. “You brought flowers.” She hugged her boyfriend and Oliver heard her murmur a muffled “Thank you.”

Raisa came and took possession of the vase, and Oliver led the four of them back to the car, Roy helping Thea into the back while Laurel sat up front with him again. He quickly caught up to and surpassed the officers in their squad car, his first priority reaching his mother. “Could you call Jean for me? I don’t know if mom will have yet or not.”

Laurel nodded, taking out her phone. “And John?”

“Not yet. He was taking A.J. to the park.” He had thought, aside from confronting his mother, that today would be a relatively normal one. How had things changed so abruptly? If nothing else, the confrontation was being forced. He needed to know what his mother knew if he was going to help her.

Once Laurel had finished arranging for Jean to meet them at the station, it was an otherwise silent drive. Thea rested her head on Roy’s shoulder the whole way, while Oliver took the hand that Laurel offered palm-up. What were the charges his mother was facing? Was she guilty, or was this truly all a misunderstanding? Something told him it wouldn’t be so simple, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

\---

Moira sat in an interrogation room, the same one which her son had sat in several months prior when Detective Lance had attempted to blame him for the Hood’s crimes. Moira didn’t have the same hope of having the charges dismissed as her son’s had been, however. What little she knew of them meant that they might not be so inaccurate.

She had requested her lawyer and stated her intent not to speak until Jean had arrived, so the officers had left her alone in here with her hands chained to the table. The phone with which to make her call seemed to be taking its time to arrive, and she didn’t doubt it was meant to be an intimidation tactic. That was fine; Queens were not so easily intimidated, not with tricks like this. No matter where her speculations took her, outwardly she maintained an aura of calm.

Detective Lance had mentioned what Unidac was building. That could only mean the earthquake device. For the police to know about it, this meant she had been betrayed, but by whom? Had one of the others decided to make their own move to get out from under Malcolm’s plans? Had it been Frank? He’d been suspicious of her at the memorial, but she had counted on his cowardly nature keeping him from doing anything rash. Unless perhaps the police had caught on to him, and he was throwing her over to save his own hide.

The door opened at last, admitting Jean herself to Moira’s surprise, though it faded somewhat as Oliver and Thea followed her into the room. One of her children must have placed the call for her.

Jean took the chair across the table while her children pulled chairs around either side of her, Thea reaching for her hands. Her daughter’s eyes teared up as she looked at the handcuffs. Oliver’s expression, by contrast, was unreadable.

Jean set a folder down on the table and sighed. “I’ll come right out and say it, Moira. The charges you’re facing are incredibly severe. We need to do what we can to disprove them immediately.”

“They read me some of the charges, but not the specifics,” Moira said, side-stepping around the question of if they could disprove them for now. “Who is it that I’ve kidnapped and murdered?”

“I don’t like this one bit, but the kidnapping charge is for your second husband, and the murder charge is for you first along with the crew of the _Queen’s Gambit_ , Miss Sara Lance… and there’s an additional charge for Malcolm Merlyn.”

Moira couldn’t quite stop herself from sucking in a breath at the last name. The others, she was not guilty of anything other than knowing about them, but Malcolm… what was to be done about Malcolm?

“That’s _crazy_ ,” Thea exploded beside her. On Moira’s other side, her son only bowed his head.

“Oliver?”

He looked up, pain in his eyes. “Dad… he thought that something wasn’t right about the _Gambit_ ’s destruction. That it could have been sabotaged.”

“Okay, but _mom_ didn’t do it, Ollie,” Thea said pointedly.

“Of course not, but — is there something you know about it, mom? Something the investigators could have found out?”

“The more we can cooperate with them, the greater our chances are of seeing a better outcome,” Jean advised.

Moira’s hands shook. What could she say? Someone was blaming her for Malcolm’s crimes, but without Malcolm present who could she point to as the true guilty party?

“Mom.” There was something far more serious in Oliver’s voice, the way he had sometimes gotten this year. She found it hard to look away from him. “What is it you know?”

“I think,” she began, “I think I’m being framed.”

“Wait, so the _Gambit_ was actually sabotaged?” Thea asked. “Why?”

Her world was coming down around her, and Moira didn’t see a way out of this. Not fully, at least. The lies she had told and the pretenses that she had put up could not withstand this, not when the police had in their possession a device designed to create an earthquake built by a company under _her_ purview. She had always suspected Malcolm had not wished to bid on Unidac personally in order to separate himself to some degree should the worst happen, and Moira fervently wished someone else at Tempest had been given the instruction to purchase it instead.

If the police had taken her things, they would be able to see for themselves that she was not the mastermind behind this. It would be better for Moira to come clean about Malcolm’s role at the head of Tempest and what he had done to ensure her cooperation before they read about it. But first, she needed to come clean to her children, before they assumed the worst.

“What you both need to understand is that this family has been under threat for a long time,” she finally revealed. “And _everything_ I have done is to protect you both.”

Oliver and Thea exchanged a nervous glance, and Jean’s lips pulled into a thin line.

“Your father was going on that trip all those years ago because he had learned about a terrible plot. A plot I asked him to put a stop to. If I hadn’t, he might still be alive.”

Thea gasped, but Oliver remained almost totally still as he asked, “Who was behind it?”

“Malcolm,” she answered, watching all three of their eyes widen. “And when he had the _Gambit_ destroyed, I had no choice but to become his accomplice in order to protect Thea.”

“His accomplice in what, mom? What was his plan?” Her son could have passed for one of the officers wanting her confession if he put on a uniform, and the hairs on the backs of her arms seemed to stand up as Moira couldn’t help but be reminded of a different man’s pointed questions to her months ago. But it couldn’t be. She didn’t want to think what that would mean if it was true.

“He… he commissioned a device.” Moira’s mouth had run dry, and she swallowed once. “To level the Glades and everyone in it.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, unable to stand watching the shock and revulsion she knew had to be there in their eyes.

“Oh God,” Jean murmured under her breath.

“Mom, no,” Thea begged, her hands drawing back. “ _Please_.”

A chair scraped back, and Moira could not stop herself from looking. Oliver had stood up, a hand passing over his face and eyes betraying far more emotion than she was used to seeing in him ever since he had come home. “Oliver…”

He shook his head, turning away as both hands braced the back of his neck. Her own son couldn’t even look at her.

“Did Malcolm Merlyn have Walter abducted?” Jean asked, seeming to have gathered herself enough to get down to work.

“Yes. And killed,” Moira added.

“The police don’t have Walter’s death listed as one of the charges. There’s no record of his death here,” her old friend said, sorting through the papers.

“It was a federal agency that found the proof, wasn’t it? Oliver?” She looked back to him in time to see him freeze for a moment.

He turned around slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll have to see if Mr. Diggle’s friend can send us the proof. But mom… why?”

“I told you, I had to protect—”

He raised a hand. “Not why did you do it. Why was _Malcolm_ going to do it?”

The absolute disbelief in his eyes caused her trembling to finally stop, and as she looked around she realized he was not the only one struggling to process this. It was difficult remembering that to most people, Malcolm had been a well-liked and respected figure. That he had seemingly died a martyr. They would never have the opportunity to know him like she had.

“It was for Rebecca,” she finally managed to answer. “He never forgave the city for her death. The Glades in particular. He believed it needed a ‘fresh start’, and he was going to provide it.”

“But he — what about the _people_ , mom? What about Roy? Laurel? Everybody going to Ollie’s club at night?” Thea seemed to be shocked beyond the point of tears, though her eyes looked glassy with water that had gathered in them and not fallen.

“I did what I did to keep you and your brother safe.”

“Then you’re going to need a better defense,” Oliver snapped, his voice harsh once more. “This isn’t — we’re talking hundreds or maybe thousands of lives. We weren’t worth that.”

“You are to me,” she argued back. “I don’t expect you to understand that. You’re not a parent. There is nothing you aren’t willing to do for your children. It’s why I- I tried to put a stop to Malcolm’s plans after the Hood attacked me.”

She watched as Oliver seemed to lose all color. He drew back from the table again, totally silent.

“So the hiring an assassin charge…” Jean trailed off. Moira bowed her head.

“I can’t believe this,” Thea muttered, and she stood as well, opening and shutting the heavy metal door with a _slam_. After a moment’s hesitation, Oliver followed more quietly.

She had lost them. The one thing above all else she had wanted to avoid.

“Let’s just try to get our facts together, Moira, to present your case in the best light possible,” Jean advised. “I can’t make any promises as to how this will turn out, not without definitive proof that what you’re saying about Malcolm Merlyn is true.”

“My files should take care of that,” Moira replied. It wasn’t the smoking gun of the _Gambit_ wreckage, but it was better than nothing. And if she could just determine who had placed her in this position, she would know who among Tempest might be her potential allies still. And who were her enemies.

\---

Laurel’s heart seemed to plummet further and further with each line she read of the file. If all of this was true, if Mrs. Queen had _really_ been planning to detonate a bomb underneath the Glades, how many people could have lost their lives? Anita, Jerome, Pam, Hank and his son, Mrs. Ross, Ted and his gym patrons, the members of her capoeira class, John and his sister-in-law and her son, Raisa and her family, Roy, _her_. Every person whose life she had protected the last couple months, all gone in a terrible catastrophe.

How would she have died? Falling into a newly-created ravine? Crushed by a falling building? Suffocated while trapped under a pile of rubble in a depleting pocket of air? It was horrific. How could a person even plan such a thing?

“You’re not supposed to be looking at that,” her father scolded in a low voice as he came back into the interview room with two coffees.

“I needed to know what’s happening so I can support Oliver and Thea through this,” she excused, accepting her own cup as she added, “And it’s not as if you haven’t snooped on me, you might recall.” That wound was still fresh thanks to her father’s recent use of the vigilante phone, not that she could ever tell him she knew about that.

Predictably, he grumbled something that was an attempted apology. Laurel let it go. What was done was done, after all.

“I just can’t believe she could have been planning this.” Both of her children worked regularly in the Glades, had friends or loved ones there. Did Mrs. Queen even realize she was dooming her own longtime cook and housekeeper with this kind of monstrous machine?

“Well, soon as she’s done speaking to her lawyer, we’ll find out why.”

“She couldn’t have been doing this all by herself,” Laurel mused. She knew for a fact that at least one other person had known about the _Gambit_ since John had overheard the woman talking about it with an unknown man. “Who even is the source of this information?”

“Honey, you know I can’t tell you that. Even if you weren’t so close to the family.”

Laurel frowned. “She has a right to face her accuser.”

“Yeah, in a court of law,” her father said. “That’s not right now. Look, this source has reason to be worried for their life, alright? She‘s had more than one whistleblower dealt with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean both her husbands, for one thing. According to our source, Robert Queen had just found out about this plan before she had his yacht sabotaged.”

“What, so she was stopping him from traveling?” That didn’t add up with what Oliver had said about his father. Mr. Queen hadn’t told Oliver to right his mother’s wrongs, but his. “Why would she have let Oliver go on the trip if she was planning to blow up the yacht?”

Hilton came back into the room. “Frank thinks we give them five more minutes.”

“Alright. Look, why don’t you go keep an eye on that Harper kid for me while you wait for Queen and his sister?” Her dad suggested.

Laurel knew she couldn’t expect to keep sitting in on this with her father’s coworkers and superior coming back soon, so she slipped back out the door. She felt a little silly passing by other cops and detectives in their practical gear while she was dressed for brunch, but she soon found Roy sitting in a chair out in the hall.

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” she told him bluntly. “But I think they’re missing something.”

“Like the evidence?”

Laurel raised an eyebrow.

“The cops with her home office stuff should’ve gotten here by now,” Roy pointed out. “They weren’t that far behind us.”

“They haven’t come through?”

The door to the interrogation room flew open, Thea storming out with teary eyes. Roy immediately stood up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just my mom’s a crazy murderer.”

Laurel shushed her younger friend, glancing back down the hall towards the bullpen. “Thea, whatever you’re feeling right now, you need to be careful. Anything you say has the potential to be used against your mother, too.”

Oliver had stepped out by this time as well, far more calm though that said little for what he might really be feeling. He was far better at hiding that than most people. Laurel walked up to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey, can we?” He jerked his head in the direction of the back alley. Laurel nodded, leading him away from the younger couple. Thea had at least let Roy wrap her in another hug, so hopefully that would avoid any further outburst.

When they exited and headed down the short few steps, Laurel glanced around to make sure the alley was empty. “You mother confessed?”

“Not to everything. She- Tommy was right. Someone did hire a hit man to kill his father, and it was her.” Before she could react to that, he continued, “The thing is, she’s claiming _he_ was the one who had the _Gambit_ sabotaged and commissioned this device to- to—”

“The earthquake device, I read my father’s file,” she finished for him. “Oliver, if Mr. Merlyn was the one behind everything, then why would someone be framing your mother for it? Why not just expose him?”

He frowned in thought for a long moment. “Because exposing him isn’t their goal. I’m not even sure exposing this plot was the goal. It’s revenge.”

“Revenge for having Malcolm killed? But then…” She didn’t even want to voice it. The deep pain in Oliver’s eyes said it all.

“Tommy’s their source.”

Only weeks ago she would have denied it. Tommy would never do something so underhanded. But he had changed so much this year. They all had. But how could he have condoned what his father had been planning enough to want to avenge him while still knowing those plans would damn Moira Queen in the eyes of the law? How did he reconcile it?

The precinct’s back door burst open. “Ollie, the cops are really upset about something,” Thea said in a panic. “I think there’s more people dead!”

They exchanged a quick look before hurrying back indoors. A number of officers were arguing heatedly in the bullpen, one shaking an evidence bag containing two black-tipped arrows stained with blood. She felt Oliver tense behind her.

“By the time we made it to the car, Groves and Jones were dead. Shot straight through the heart,” the partner of the officer holding the bag of arrows said, a deep scowl on his face shared by many. “Evidence was gone.”

“What would the copycat archer want with it?”

“Could Queen have hired him?”

“She’s been in our custody the whole time,” Hilton pointed out steadily, but Laurel’s heart sank when he asked, “How do we link it back to her?”

“This isn’t good,” Laurel said, looking back at Oliver. “If your mother’s computer had communications between her and Merlyn on them—”

“Then the Dark Archer just took care of them,” Oliver said through gritted teeth. He glanced at Thea and Roy, who remained close by them watching the officers. Laurel knew he didn’t want to risk saying anything more.

It wouldn’t matter what he said, especially to her father and his precinct right now. This case had become about more than the Glades for them; they were going after a cop killer, and Laurel knew Mrs. Queen’s situation had just gotten a whole lot worse.

Officer Washington, who Laurel remembered had been put on desk duty while completing his full physical therapy regimen after the injury he sustained from the Royal Flush Gang last fall, came into the bullpen. “Detectives! We’ve got press in the lobby. Somehow they got a hold of the Queen case.”

“Damn,” Laurel muttered under her breath, and it was echoed around the room at varying volumes. If she’d had any doubt about this being a play for revenge rather than justice, that was out the window now.

“How did they find out?” Thea asked, though only their group of four seemed to notice. 

Lieutenant Pike was busy joining Washington, though he turned to point around the room. “Nobody talks to the press! This is an investigation, not a TMZ exclusive!”

“They’re really gonna want to talk to you and your brother,” Roy said to Thea. “We better get out of here.”

“That’s a good idea,” Oliver agreed. “We’ll head out the back for the car, hope to avoid them. Come on.”

Oliver had her take the lead while he brought up the rear, keeping Roy and especially Thea sandwiched between them.

They made it around the side of the building and halfway to the car before they were spotted. “Oliver! Thea!”

A woman from Channel 52 led the charge towards them, but Oliver quickly wrenched open the back door and lifted his sister bodily inside. Laurel jumped into the passenger seat before he felt the need to do the same to her, and so he and Roy ran around the other side of the car and got in, Oliver starting the engine and swerving straight out into traffic.

“What now?” Laurel prompted him. She could see his mind working hard to play catch-up to all these developments; his mother’s confession, the Dark Archer’s reappearance, the media picking up the story, Tommy’s very likely part in all this. They couldn’t afford to just keep reacting, though.

“Now, we need to figure out how far this goes. Thea, you’ll come with us to the club and stay there with Roy. I’m keeping it closed tonight, so it’ll be safest there.”

“Okay,” his sister agreed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be in my office,” he replied. “Trying to do damage control.”

His phone started buzzing. Oliver took it out of his pocket and passed it to her without looking. Laurel glanced at the caller ID. “Looks like John isn’t waiting for one of us to call. Hello?”

_“Laurel? Where’s Oliver?”_

“Driving. He’s with me, and so is Thea and her boyfriend.”

She thought she heard John release a breath of relief. _“I’m guessing he’s seen the news?”_

“Not exactly, but he knows what’s going on. We’ll be at the club in ten.”

 _“Then I’ll be there.”_ He hung up, and Laurel set the phone down in the cup holder. At Oliver’s questioning look, she nodded.

“We’ll do what we can, Ollie.” She couldn’t promise it would be okay. As they passed by clumps of people watching screens both in windows or on their phones, Laurel truthfully didn’t know how it could be.

\---

Athena returned to the top office of Merlyn Global, removing the head covering of her League uniform as she went. She carried the hard drive to Moira Queen’s personal computer under one arm; the rest was unnecessary and had been left behind.

 _“As you all just saw, the children of Moira Queen were indeed at the downtown precinct just now but left without answering any questions,”_ a female news anchor spoke on the screen at the desk. _“This seems to indicate that they are_ not _under arrest along with their mother, though it is unclear how much they know about what documents have identified as the Markov Device. We’ll keep those of you at the station and at home updated as events unfold. This is Susan Williams, Channel 52.”_

Athena took the liberty of shutting off the video feed rather than listen to inane jingles and set the hard drive on the desk. “It is done.”

Thomas turned away from the windows overlooking his city, a city that was just about tipping over the edge into chaos. Athena had to admire it in a way; for all his aversion to killing, the man had a vindictive streak beyond anything she had seen since his father.

As if to reiterate that point, he asked, “Did you have to kill them?”

“No matter how similar my uniform is to your father's, the authorities would have realized their Dark Archer had suddenly shrunk a foot. It was better to remove the witnesses and leave the rest something to remember me by.”

Thomas sighed, but nodded with closed eyes. “Alright.”

“You will soon learn the art of killing or not killing yourself,” Athena reminded him. “You have made an enemy who deals in such extremes. It is time to train you to be ready for him. Have the preparations been made?”

“My father’s things are packed, and an acting CEO has been assigned,” the young man confirmed. “My private plane is ready to leave at my signal.”

“Very good.” She looked forward to leaving the trappings of modern life behind and to re-educating the son of _Al Sah-Her_ in their ways. As much as she regretted the father’s death, Athena was beginning to realize that none of this would have been possible without it. Rather than switching her allegiance from one strongman to another, she would be creating her own in her image.

Thomas got out his mobile device, glancing at the screen. “Just like I thought. An advisory not to go to the Glades tonight. They’re already looting and rioting.” His face twisted with contempt. “These are the people Ollie and Laurel are so determined to save, people who can’t even keep from destroying their own property and livelihoods.”

“Sickness and evil, when faced with nothing else, will consume itself,” she agreed. “And we shall let it burn. There are greater things waiting for you, Thomas. Let us depart.”

He nodded and picked up the hard drive.

“Why did you wish to keep it?” Athena could not help asking. She would have burned it without hesitation if he had asked, to ensure the true nature of Tempest never was revealed.

“Call it insurance,” he said. Then he strode to the elevator.

Athena followed in his wake.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to those who were celebrating yesterday, and happy weekend to those who weren't! At long last, we have the conclusion to Bird in a Storm. And it's quite the long chapter. Hopefully that's good news for you all. Thanks to everyone for their patience waiting for updates and reading and commenting all the while, thanks very much to the Lauriver Discord for their encouragement and especially Okoriwadsworth for beta-reading the first ten or eleven chapters. I had a lot of fun doing this re-design of the latter half of Arrow's first season and creating this different arc for Laurel's character to take. I'll let you all get on with it now, so please enjoy!

John had only just dropped A.J. off from their morning in the park. He’d given his nephew some pointers and shot a few hoops with him, then sat him down on a bench to finally tell him about how the cops had caught the bad man who took his father away. It was a simplification, maybe, and when A.J. was older, he would get the full story. But John wanted his nephew to know that justice had been done.

A.J. had listened raptly, then asked, “Did the Hood help them?”

John had smiled. Ever since his mother had been saved first by the Hood and then later by Laurel’s vigilante persona, A.J. had become rather enamored with Starling City’s unconventional protectors. If he only knew his uncle was right in the thick of it. “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

He had turned the radio on upon getting back in his car for the drive home, only to find not music, but a news bulletin playing across the airwaves.

_“An anonymous source delivered the blueprints to the bomb being developed at Queen Consolidated’s subsidiary Unidac Industries to this station as as reportedly to the police. Eyewitnesses outside the SCPD’s downtown precinct say they saw who appeared to be Moira Queen, the current CEO of Queen Consolidated, being led inside by officers over an hour ago.”_

John had sat there, stunned, only able to listen as the news report continued on. Oliver’s mother stood accused of sabotaging the _Gambit_ to kill her husband, having her second husband kidnapped, hiring the Triad assassins to kill Malcolm Merlyn and commissioning a bomb to be set off underneath the Glades.

That last one chilled him to the bone. He had plenty of experience with bombs going off in cities, destroying buildings or cars, killing handfuls of people here and there in an unpredictable pattern designed to cause terror and paranoia. But from the sounds of it, this device at Unidac Industries was so much more than that. No one had been meant to learn it was even a bomb.

 _Now we know why their symbol was the subway map,_ John thought grimly to himself.

Something was missing from the news report, however. Where was the rest of Tempest in all this? What about the man Moira had been talking to that night John had spied on her? The man whose voice had been too indistinct to make out on the recording?

 _“Oliver and Thea Queen have reportedly left the precinct,”_ the reporter announced, breaking John out of his shock. If Oliver had been at the precinct, then he knew more about what was really happening than the news was telling. And John had a feeling that as long as his friend and Thea were in the spotlight like this, they might actually need a bodyguard.

He called Oliver’s phone and got Laurel, though she quickly filled him in on where they were headed. John drove as fast as he could to the base, made difficult by the number of people out on the streets. Some were shouting, others just wandering around with their mouths hanging open like they just couldn’t believe what they were seeing and hearing. A restless energy seemed to hang in the air.

He parked and let himself in the back, entering the base to find Oliver already grabbing his suit to change and Laurel in her own clothes that she wore at night, minus her jacket.

“Where’s your sister?” John asked when Oliver caught sight of him.

“She’s upstairs with Roy. I need you to stay with them while I track down Tommy.”

John frowned. “What’s Tommy got to do with this?” He knew Oliver was in something of a silent feud with the man, however reluctantly, but it felt like that should be further down the priority list.

“Everything,” Oliver answered simply.

“According to Moira, Malcolm Merlyn was the real leader of Tempest,” Laurel elaborated, causing John’s eyebrows to rise as high as they were able. Their city’s supposed great humanitarian had been planning a terror attack? “She had him killed, and Tommy swore he was going to find out who did it. He would have had access to everything his father had on this device and the _Gambit_ and everything else.”

“So instead of having her killed, he’s taking her down publicly. Setting his father up as a martyr, too,” John realized. “He probably told them your mother had Merlyn killed to stop him from going to them.”

Oliver’s fists clenched. “It’s an easy story to sell.”

“Does your mother have some kind of dirt on Merlyn she can use?” John wasn’t particularly fond of Moira Queen; the woman had been a party to this plot in some capacity or another. But she didn’t deserve to go down for the whole thing. Not when it wasn’t the truth.

“The Dark Archer took it,” Laurel said with a scowl.

“He’s still out there? Oliver, if he’s working for Tommy now, then I need to come with you. I can’t let you go into that kind of battle alone again.” He didn’t want to rub his friend’s defeat at the other archer’s hands in his face, but he would gently remind him if he had to.

“John, I appreciate that, but right now there is a whole city of people who think my mother is a domestic terrorist, and there are some who are going to be angry. If they can’t get to her, they will try to get to me or Thea. If I’m gonna fight the Dark Archer again, I need to know that she’s safe.”

As much as he didn’t want him to be, he knew Oliver was right. John looked to Laurel. “What about you?”

“I’d be pretty outmatched against that kind of fighter,” she admitted. “And that’s assuming I could even get up close to him. Besides, I’m gonna be needed in the Glades tonight. People are panicking. That never leads anywhere good.”

“Alright, you might actually be crazier than he is,” John decided. “The best thing anyone can do is hunker down tonight.”

“But a lot of people won’t be, and people are going to get hurt because of it. I can’t sit down here watching it happen when I started down this path to stop it.”

Oliver was frowning but held his tongue. Either they’d already been over this privately before John arrived or he was keeping his thoughts to himself. He couldn’t imagine it was easy. John had often found himself worrying about Lyla whenever they had run separate missions in Afghanistan. Sometimes he still worried.

Laurel took her wig off the table and bent over to fit it onto her head. She rose quickly, the blonde locks falling down her back. She shrugged into a jean jacket resting on the back of a chair. Then she turned to Oliver, placing one hand to his cheek.

“Be careful.”

“And you.”

Oliver bent his head to meet her lips in a kiss, one hand at the small of her back pressing her closer. John looked away, having no desire to intrude on their moment. This was hard enough for them both already. Then she headed out to the back where she kept the motorcycle Oliver had bought.

John joined his friend by the computers as he brought one of the monitors up. “How are you planning to find Tommy?”

“One of the things I had to do on the island was learn from example. The more I observed, the better off my chances were.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means that thanks to Felicity, I know how to ping a phone.” He stood back up to his full height after clicking and typing away in a far more serious manner than their temporary teammate had done. John wondered what she must be thinking about all the news. At the least, she was probably safe since her small townhouse was outside the Glades. “I’ll change and then run it. You should get upstairs.”

“Alright.” He held out his hand and Oliver clasped it with his. John placed his free hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Oliver didn’t need to tell him the thanks was for more than a simple well-wish.

John headed up to the club area of the Verdant, finding Thea and Roy sitting at the bar watching the news on a low volume.

“Mr. Diggle? Where’s Ollie?” Thea asked as he joined them.

“Still downstairs. He’s trying to take care of some things regarding your mother.”

“Okay, what about Laurel?”

“She went back out,” John answered, not missing the spark of recognition in Roy’s eyes. “Said she needed to make sure her home was secure ahead of what’s shaping up to be a pretty rough night.”

“I, uh, I should probably do the same thing,” Roy said, standing up.

“Wait, what? Roy, no,” Thea said, standing with him and taking his hands. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“I’ll be fine. But this is my home, Thea. I gotta do something. Stay here with your brother’s bodyguard. I’ll come back.”

“Roy!”

But the young man hurried out the front door. John went over and locked them behind him.

Thea stood there a moment before sinking back into her barstool. She looked terribly lonely and afraid.

“I know this isn’t easy, Miss Queen, but the best thing we can do is stay out of the public eye right now.”

“They’re really gonna blame me and Ollie for this?”

He looked down. “The truth will become clear eventually, but people aren’t interested in truth right now.”

She said nothing, and he took the time to send a text to Carly, checking that she and A.J. were at home and planning to stay there. The news continued to play in the background, and he tuned it out but for a few snippets here and there.

_“Chaos as protests break out outside Alderman Blood’s office. The alderman himself appears to be leading them.”_

_“People are storming the local groceries, taking food, water and other essentials, many refusing to pay.”_

_“As you can see below, traffic is backed up several_ blocks _as some look to flee the Glades. Mayor Altman’s statement that the Unidac device is in police custody doing little to calm a public fearing a Biblical reckoning.”_

_“Susan, is it true we have sighting of who folks have taken to calling the Woman of the Glades?”_

John looked up, but just then a pounding started up at the front door.

“Open up, Queen!” A voice called, some muffled jeers accompanying it. “Your mom’s sending us all to Hell, and I want a drink first!”

John shut the TV off. “Sit down behind the bar,” he said in an undertone to Thea. She nodded and hurried to do as told. John crouched down behind a table with his gun drawn, waiting for any sign of the door caving in.

This was going to be a long night.

—-

Tommy surprised himself at times whenever he recalled how little time had really passed since his life had changed forever. Even if he started counting from the day Oliver had come back home and brought the Hood with him, it hadn’t even been a year.

He reflected on this past year as the chauffeur drove him and Athena to the airport. He had finally made a bid for the heart of Laurel Lance, only to find hers would always belong to another. He could only think of their time together with scorn, now. To think he hadn’t needed to throw fundraisers or offer to better himself at all; Laurel’s tastes had and always would be for the bad boy, and seemingly one who used his might to get his way. He wondered how she might feel once Tommy completed his training with Athena. Would she realize what she could have had?

He had been cast out of his inheritance, forced to face the reality that he was a grown man, and what sort of man he wanted to be. While his anger had once burned towards his father for what had felt a rejection, he had realized what his father had felt he needed to do. Tommy’s life had not held much meaning before that; a part of him had always felt life itself was meaningless when good, honest people like his mother were gunned down for nothing. Now, he was the head of Merlyn Global and the last, best hope for both his parents’ legacies.

His life had been placed under threat over and over again in the very neighborhood his mother had lost hers and even in the safer sections of downtown. Starling was diseased, was the only conclusion he could draw, and he felt a smug satisfaction that now the whole city could see it, too. It wouldn’t change anything for the better, of course. They would sooner destroy each other than work towards a common good. Just like how Oliver claimed to work for the good of the people and yet was little more than a killer.

Oliver. His oldest friend and someone he once called a brother. He had always been jealous of Oliver in many ways; he had the loving parents, an adoring sister, the heart of the girl Tommy yearned for and the ability to bed countless others. He had always tried to tell himself that jealousy was irrational and a part of him he needed to suppress. Now he could see it for what it had been: a warning of what was to come. That his supposed friend was really his enemy.

In many ways, Oliver had caused these changes in his life to happen. His sudden return had had Tommy anxious to try and secure an exclusive commitment out of Laurel, only for that to fail thanks to Oliver enchanting her with vigilante theatrics. His attack on his own mother had caused her to take action against Tommy’s father. His dad’s convalescence in Starling General had brought Athena into his life and opened his eyes to what was really happening in their city. So perhaps, in a way, he ought to be grateful to his friend and brother.

He wasn’t.

His thoughts were interrupted as the car slowed to a stop once it passed through the gates to the private airstrip.

“Sir, there’s someone — I think it’s the Hood standing on the tarmac,” the chauffeur called into the back, bewilderment lacing his tone. Athena’s perfect posture somehow straightened up more, but Tommy wasn’t worried in the least.

“Stop the car here and start loading the rest of our things. I’ll deal with him.” It didn’t surprise him that Oliver had tracked them here. His old friend clearly had or knew someone with tech capabilities who would be able to get a look at the flight manifests of Starling International.

Tommy let himself out and walked about ten paces away from the other man decked out in his costume. Athena followed, her hand hovering by her belt where she kept her knife.

“What do you want?”

“For you to tell the authorities the truth about Tempest,” Oliver said, a growl in his voice even if he had realized using that modulator of his was pointless.

“Why, so they can prosecute a dead man? Face it, Oliver, if you were serious about wanting to save this city, you would have needed to turn her in anyway.”

“Don’t pretend this is about saving the city. All you’ve done is caused a mass panic,” Oliver accused him.

“Good,” he replied, watching the shock play out across what he could see of Oliver’s face. “I never said _I_ wanted to save it. And really, all I’ve done is shake them out of their apathy. Funny how an innocent woman can be bleeding out in the street and no one lifts a finger, but even _suggest_ a threat against any of their lives and suddenly it’s riots in the streets!”

His old friend eyed him sadly. “What happened to your mother was terrible. It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“For once, we agree.”

“I know you are better than this, Tommy. What about CNRI? The firefighters benefit. There’s a desire to do good in you in a real way. Not the posturing Malcolm was hiding behind.”

Tommy sucked in a breath through his teeth and released it, smiling as he said. “Funny you should say that. Getting involved in charity work was actually _Thea’s_ idea. Said I should act like I was interested in the things Laurel was. What did Laurel call it…? Oh yeah, my annual attempt to get back in her pants.” He spread his arms wide. “Have to say, it worked for a while.”

He thought he heard the _creak_ of leather as Oliver’s gloved fist clenched around the bow in his hand. For once, his friend could know exactly how he had felt watching him with Laurel all those years.

Tommy couldn’t possibly stop himself from adding, “You know she went down on me after the firefighter benefit? But I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what she lets you do every time you come swinging in to rescue her—”

With a snarl, Oliver drew an arrow and loosed it point-blank at Tommy’s chest.

Athena slashed it out of the air with her knife where it clattered to the ground before he could do more than blink in shock. A rope sprung harmlessly out of it a moment later.

His confidant went on the offensive, lunging towards Oliver, though he blocked the attack with his bow. The two traded blows while Tommy watched, wishing he actually _did_ know this stuff already.

“Uh, Mr. Merlyn?”

He jumped in shock, having pretty much forgotten the chauffeur.

“The plane is ready.”

“Great. You can head back now. Don’t bother calling this in,” he added, holding out a one-hundred dollar bill. The man took it and dutifully went back to his car. “Athena! Let’s go.”

Athena was on the ground but had just swept Oliver’s legs out from under him as well. He gave an exaggerated wince as his once-friend went down like a ton of bricks. She jumped back to standing and came to join Tommy at the stairs, only for a second arrow to come flying and wrap around her.

Oliver had risen onto one knee and held another arrow in his hand ready to aim and loose. “I can’t let you leave.”

“Actually, you can.” Tommy smirked. “Because there’s something I know that you don’t, and after the year we’ve had, Oliver, that’s a pretty good feeling.”

Oliver stayed silent, waiting rather than give him the satisfaction of asking.

“Your mother was too hasty to get her revenge. Walter Steele is still alive.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ll send you the address myself,” he offered. “Once I’m in the air. But if this plane doesn’t take off with me on it, the other men _at_ that address will be ordered to finish the job. So what’ll it be, Ollie? Keep me here or save a man’s life?”

He could see the conflict that warred on Oliver’s face, knew the moment that he decided when his bow lowered just an inch.

Tommy nodded to himself. He’d known Oliver would have to choose Walter Steele and that he wasn’t really risking anything by offering the choice; how else could his old friend pretend he was a hero? “Just like you couldn’t beat my _father_ at Christmas,” he said, watching Oliver’s eyes widen. “I’m going to learn everything he knew. Maybe once I have, we can settle this.”

He took the knife Athena had managed to work into her hand and cut her bonds for her, then turned his back on Oliver Queen and boarded the plane.

Once he sat down, he took out his phone in preparation to make good on his promise of revealing Walter’s location. Athena sat beside him, perfectly composed once more.

“How long will my training take?” He wondered aloud as the plane finally began to taxi down the runway.

“That depends on the dedication of the student. Your father completed his and rose to become one of our leader’s most trusted within two years. Another girl from your city has also excelled in her training, though she did so by seducing our leader’s heir.”

“A girl from Starling?”

“Yes. I believe she was called Sara Lance in her former life.”

Tommy froze, then a smile stole slowly over his lips. It truly was nice holding the most cards.

—-

Roy ran home as fast as he could, getting his gun and a knife out of their hiding places. He wasn’t going to try and use them tonight if he could help it, but he didn’t want one of his old crowd breaking in to take them and use them instead. With both tucked out of sight in his pockets, he grabbed his hoodie and pulled it down over his face and went back out into the night.

Laurel was going to be out here trying to restore peace to their streets. Why wouldn’t he be doing the same?

There wasn’t much point to jacking a car; the streets were packed with honking vehicles, people trying to leave like they thought the bomb was still going off. Roy couldn’t really blame them.

A block down the road, he saw two men with beers in hand grabbing the arm of a woman trying to go the other way. “Let’s have some fun before the end of the world, baby!”

“Let go of me!”

Roy charged down to meet them, slugging the first man across the jaw as he made a grab for the woman’s chest.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“World’s not ending, so get lost or get put down,” he declared, breathing harshly through his nose.

“Think you’re the Hood, big man?” The second man asked. He surged forward, only to stagger back with a howl as the woman sprayed him with a can of mace. “Shit!”

“Thanks for the help,” she said, and Roy nodded back. She turned and hurried to keep heading wherever she was going. Roy hoped she made it okay.

A wail caught his attention next, and his heart lurched as he noticed a toddler wandering dangerously near the curb, arms reaching up in a plea to be held. Roy ran and scooped the girl up, looking around wildly. Where the hell were her parents?

“Steffi? Steffi! Someone help me find my daughter!”

“Hey, that kid’s got her!”

Roy was grabbed roughly by the back of his hoodie and hauled around to face a potbellied man with a clenched fist.

“I wasn’t taking her—”

“Right, just a Good Samaritan, are ya?”

“Wait! Wait!” It was the grocer, Khan, who cried out. He rushed between them. “I know this boy. He would not hurt a child.”

He noticed who he assumed was Steffi’s mother standing just a few steps back, and Roy slowly lowered the little girl down to the ground. She was still sobbing, and he wasn’t sure she knew how to stop.

“I saw her near the road. I just…”

The man who had nearly decked him sagged while the mother gasped and hurried around him, picking up her daughter and shushing her.

Khan patted his shoulder and Roy looked down at the ground. All the times he’d stolen bits of food or dumb knick-knacks from the guy’s store, and he’d rushed to his defense.

“You should get home, Roy.”

“I’m alright. What about your store?”

Khan’s smile looked strained. “ _Ya Allah_! It will wait until morning.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll come check on you,” he promised. Roy took off running again.

He passed a number of smashed storefronts and people running in every single direction. He still saw no sign of Laurel or even the Hood. Where _was_ the Hood? How could he save Roy’s life and not show when countless others needed him? How did he decide which battles he fought?

Roy stopped for a moment, panting. He took out his phone. Five missed calls from Thea. But a quick check of Channel 52’s webpage gave him at least one answer: _Woman of the Glades escorts legal aide office workers to safety amid riots_

Of course, her old coworkers. Roy turned and cut across the bumper-to-bumper traffic, hoping to head her off before she got too far. 

Several blocks later, a police cruiser was stuck in the middle of the street unable to make anymore progress. A garbled voice blared from its speakers. _“Return to your homes. I repeat, return to your homes.”_

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Yeah, fuck the man!”

A couple of teenagers in designer ripped jeans and spiked hair threw a couple rocks at the car. Their buddies all laughed.

_“Stand down. Return to your homes.”_

They weren’t even from around here, he realized, watching another one in the group filming it all. How much of this rioting was just people from outside the neighborhood taking advantage of all the chaos?

“Hey, get the hell out of here!”

A couple of the kids turned in his direction.

“Do you want to start a shooting?” He gestured towards the car. “They’re not gonna throw rocks back.”

The ringleader of the group stepped up and pushed at his chest. “Mind your own business, asshole.”

Roy shoved him to the ground.

“Hey!”

They were on him in seconds, and even if Roy could hit harder than any of them, he was finding it hard to fight his way past so many. He hit the ground, blows landing on his back while he brought his arms up to shield his head.

The whistle of metal through the air preceded a number of grunts, and the punches and kicks let up. The other boys all staggered back nursing arms, legs and backs as Laurel stood there in her wig and mask, seething.

“Get out of my part of town.”

The boys ran off, and she reached a hand down that Roy gladly took.

“We should get you back to the club.”

“I’m good,” he said, rubbing at his ribs.

_“Put the weapon down and surrender with your hands up!”_

The both jumped at hearing the command. One of the officers had gotten out of the car and was unclipping his gun.

“Come on!” Roy kept Laurel’s hand in his and ran, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. Of course the cops weren’t interested in lifting a finger when some rich kids were beating up on him but when someone showed up to actually do their job.

They worked together, helping some who had stumbled and fallen or breaking up fights. There were shouts from a building where smoke streamed out, but when Roy raced forward, Laurel snagged him by the arm.

“You’re already having trouble breathing. Wait here.”

She kicked the front door open rather than chance the handle, waited a moment as an initial plume of smoke billowed out, then rushed inside with a hand pressed over her mouth.

Roy waited, hands twitching at his sides. He’d give it five minutes. No, two. Damnit, how long was someone able to go inhaling smoke?

“Hey, boy!”

He turned at the call, spotting an older Black woman two doors down. She was watching the smoking building with fear in her eyes.

“I have a hose. I don’t know if it’ll reach.”

Roy hurried over to the side of her house, grabbing the hose and yanking it as far as it would go in the direction of the building. “Turn it on!”

Water trickled and then spurted out, hitting the front of the building and getting in through the door. It wasn’t like TV; the smoke didn’t immediately start dying out. He couldn’t even tell if it was helping. But he was doing something, right?

Shadowy figures appeared through the smoke, then were spluttering as well as coughing when they were hit with the spray. Roy hastily moved the hose.

“No, it is good!” One man exclaimed, his Russian accent not nearly as thick as some of the others. He gestured for the hose, and Roy passed it to him, watching as the man drank straight from it. He offered it to each of his family in turn, each of them thanking the woman whose hose they had borrowed, a Mrs. Ross according to what they were saying.

The last ones out were Laurel and a woman with gray in her hair who clutched a necklace with wooden beads and crosses. “You save my sister on the buses, you save my family, you are _saint_.”

“Come inside, all of you,” Mrs. Ross insisted.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Laurel replied, her voice raspy with the smoke. She bent double, hands on her knees. There was a streak of something black on her cheek and the wig she wore looked frazzled rather than silky.

Roy moved by her to indicate he was staying with her. The Russian family took up their neighbor’s offer after many rounds of thanks, and soon it was the two of them left on the street.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just let me… let me breathe.”

He knew how she felt. Roy had no idea how long they’d been at this by now, but the streets seemed to stretch before them with no end in sight.

Eventually, Laurel straightened up. They exchanged a nod, and then were off running again. There was nothing in his head but the pounding of his heart, the whirring of helicopter blades as the news documented their struggle while never stepping in, and the buzz of his phone as Thea kept calling and probably worrying out of her head. It was stubbornness that kept him going, stubbornness and a sense of duty, but he wanted nothing more than to curl up in her arms and sob out his exhaustion.

Several minutes later, Laurel gasped and sped ahead of him towards a car wreck right on the main road. It was a pileup, and it looked nasty.

Some of those who had been involved had seemingly already gotten out of their cars. Blood stained the pavement beneath a few of the cars, indicating where more serious injuries had occurred. Roy saw a group of people gathered around a body that had been dragged to the sidewalk.

But the front of one man’s car was totally dented in, and the doors had crumpled up as well. The driver sat inside unmoving, a cut on his forehead oozing blood.

On the far side of a car, two kids who couldn’t be older than ten or twelve were crying. “Daddy! Daddy!”

He and Laurel each took turns yanking on the door handle. Roy went to the side door and opened it, crawling into the backseat to see if he could pull the man out that way, but he was wedged up against the steering wheel too tightly.

“Smash the window,” a gruff voice suggested, and Roy looked out of the car to see a man all in black with a mask on. He wasn’t the Hood, but who was he?

“Wildcat,” Laurel said warmly, a spark back in her eyes. She took her staff and did as requested.

Wildcat stepped in closer, his teeth grit together as he braced one hand against the inside of the driver’s door and used the other to pull the handle. There was a series of pops and crunches. The door finally opened with a great screech of the hinges.

The man’ kids came running around to their side, but Wildcat cautioned. “Easy, easy. We need to move him slowly.”

Together, the three of them managed it, gently laying the man to rest on the ground. Roy was relieved to see him breathing. 

“How do we get him to Glades Memorial?”

The roads were too backed up even if they had a working car to drive him. Shouting and the occasional scream continued to rip through the air. They were surrounded by people, and yet no one seemed to care for anyone else around them.

Laurel’s face took on a pinched look for a moment before she suddenly started scrambling up onto the hood of one of the cars. “Hey!”

Roy exchanged a bewildered look with Ted, backing up a little when she whacked the roof with her staff. He noticed a couple people look up or around their way. Most of them didn’t.

On the roof of the car, Laurel was ripping one of her gloves off with her teeth. She shoved two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that had both Roy, the two kids and this Wildcat clapping their hands over their ears.

“ _Hey_!”

It didn’t go completely silent. The whirr of helicopter blades still filled the air, and distant honking and sirens sounded on other streets. But every eye that Roy could see was now fixed on the Woman of the Glades.

“What we learned today is beyond words,” she began, her voice seeming to ring in the sudden stillness around them. “That there are some who consider human beings nothing more than collateral to pave a new parking lot over our graves. It makes me angry, too. It’s enough to make you lose faith in humanity.

“But we are _more_ than they think of us! We’re better! We don’t step on each other’s necks to get to the top. We help each other.

“I was inspired by the Hood to take to the streets, yes. But I was inspired by _this_ community to imagine the better world that might come if everyone was a little kinder, a little more like a family. Because that’s what I found here.

“So we can take out our rightful anger and fear on these buildings we aren’t allowed to own ourselves, or we can stand up tall and prove to those watching from the safety of their comfortable homes—” One hand pointed straight up to the helicopters still circling the sky. “—that we have our humanity even if they don’t. What’s it gonna be?”

Roy held his breath as he watched the faces of the people around them. Some stood slack-jawed. Others were nodding slowly, determination set in their shoulders and jaws. Still more simply watched, tears still leaking from their eyes.

“I need people to help me move this man,” Wildcat declared in the wake of her speech. “He needs a hospital. Someone to look after his children, too.”

“We can help.” Two men, older than Roy but not by much, came forward. “And my brother can watch the kids.” A teenager hurried to join them.

“I need a phone to call my son,” a woman called out, and her request was soon answered. As Wildcat led the group escorting the unconscious man and his kids away, Roy watched in wonderment as, little by little, the harsh shouts and screams of anguish turned to offers of aid and shared tears. It wasn’t as if a switch had been flipped. He had, he realized, seen brief moments of kindness all night even amongst the panic and boiling anger. But Laurel was making them all see it now.

On the hood of the car, still, she seemed to sag a little in relief, a tired smile rising on her lips. At least until a spotlight suddenly landed on her.

Roy shielded his eyes, heart sinking as he realized one of the helicopters hadn’t been for the news after all.

_“Police! Remain where you are.”_

Before he could act, a figure in dark green swooped down on a line, grabbing Laurel around the waist. She tucked her legs in, and they landed beyond the abandoned pile of cars in the shadow of two buildings. The Hood slowly let her back down, though their foreheads remained pressed together for a moment. Then the pair slipped away before the police’s searchlight beam could find them again.

Around him, people quickly helped each other make evacuation arrangements. None of them wanted to be around whenever the cops sent boots on the ground to canvas the area. Yet Roy stood there another long, stunned moment as his mind could only process one thing: the Hood was Laurel’s boyfriend. He was Oliver Queen.

Roy staggered back a step, then started running again. With a record like his, he couldn’t afford getting picked up by the cops on some trumped up charge to make them look good for doing something. And he wanted some things answered far more than he wanted to be sitting in a holding cell.

Good thing the one place he was guaranteed to get those answers was the one place he really wanted to be right now. Even if Thea was going to kill him.

—-

Oliver was exhausted even as he pushed on, Laurel running at his side. From confronting Tommy and being forced to acknowledge his friend had chosen a dark path to travel down all in the name of his murderous father, to the drive out to Bludhaven to rescue Walter and back again once he had made sure his step-father would be seen to by the local authorities there, he couldn’t actually believe it had been less than one day since his mother’s arrest. Since the city had turned upside-down.

He had arrived home to a Glades in chaos. Oliver had done what he could here and there, noting the shock on the faces of those he helped. He was known for beatings and killings, after all, not tying tourniquets around people’s legs to stop the rush of blood from a gunshot wound or ferrying them to the hospital. Oliver hadn’t stayed with any one person too long, partly to keep his identity safe and the rest because he was desperate to find Laurel.

And then he had heard her voice.

“We don’t step on each other’s necks to get to the top. We help each other. I was inspired by the Hood to take to the streets, yes. But I was inspired by _this_ community to imagine the better world that might come if everyone was a little kinder, a little more like a family. Because that’s what I found here.”

Listening to her, seeing her standing there with a run in her leggings and her wig a disheveled mess of blonde, she had never been more breathtaking. She wasn’t just _trying_ to save the world; she was doing it.

Just as things had calmed and taken a turn for the better, the police had caught her in their sights with a searchlight. Oliver had quickly jumped into action, swinging with her out of their view and hurrying away through the streets. In silent agreement, they were each putting off whatever questions they had for the other until they returned to the base.

Only there looked to be a slight situation developing outside it when they arrived. A number of men were gathered outside the Verdant’s locked doors, which had been painted in incredibly rude graffiti and negative sentiments towards his family. Every so often, one of the men would knock and holler something, a majority of them sounding half-drunk.

“C’mon, Queen! Open up, open up.”

How long had they been here yelling? Thea was inside, probably terrified out of her mind. Oliver reached into his quiver, but Laurel placed a hand on his arm. Then she stepped forward.

“Hey.”

A few of them turned, some slower and less coordinated than others. “Hey, that’s the lady — _Shit_ , the Hood!”

Some small part of him couldn’t help being pleased at his reputation in this particular instance, and he knew he was smirking.

“The cops are coming through and probably looking to round up any troublemakers,” Laurel told them. “Go home, okay?”

 _“Or we can leave you here for them to pick up,”_ Oliver offered. She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

The men seemed to get the message, however, and they quickly scurried off, empty drinks and spray cans left behind.

Oliver led them around the side, sniffing the air in disgust at the scent of urine that permeated the alley. Laurel’s face had scrunched up as well. They quickly made their way to the back door to the base, relieved to step into the far cleaner facilities.

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of everything, the aches and pains from battles fought, the weariness that set into their bones overwhelming. But Oliver caught Laurel’s eyes, and suddenly nothing mattered more than being close to her.

They surged together, Oliver’s hands smoothing up her back beneath her jacket and Laurel’s hands gripping his face and knocking his hood back. He took a moment to pull the wig off her head and place it on a nearby table, his other hand coming up to massage her scalp. Laurel moaned against his mouth, and it shot straight through him.

 _“I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what she lets you do every time you come swinging in to rescue her,”_ a snide voice whispered in the back of his head. Oliver shook it off with a growl. He wasn’t going to let Tommy and his jealous words poison this. Laurel did what she chose with who she chose, and he was grateful that he was who she had chosen in the end. That was all there was to it.

A loud pounding on the door that led to the club upstairs had them both looking up sharply.

“Ollie, _what_ is so important down there?” Thea’s voice called, a little muffled.

“Be—” he cleared his throat and shouted louder, “Be right up!”

“We gotta get you cleaned up first,” Laurel muttered, displaying her hands, the fingertips of which were all smeared in greasepaint.

She helped wipe his face off, then Oliver changed and hurried upstairs alone. Laurel wasn’t supposed to still be here, after all.

His sister was fortunately distracted from his entrance and didn’t even get a glimpse of what lay beyond the door as she was busy laying into a tired and worse for wear Roy Harper. “—can’t _believe_ you stayed out there, you could’ve gotten killed!”

“I know, sorry, I just—”

“You were trying to find the vigilantes, weren’t you?” Thea accused.

“Yeah, and I did.” Oliver’s stomach dropped when, for the briefest moment, Roy’s eyes flickered in his direction. “But the cops chased them off.”

“And that’s probably a good thing,” Oliver added, making Thea jump and run to him. John sent him a questioning look over her shoulder, to which he gave a single shake of the head in a negative.

“You were down there _forever_. Did you not hear any of those guys that were lurking around outside?”

“Uh, no. Sorry, I was on the phone. The, uh, the police in Bludhaven, they…” he had no idea how to break this gently. “They have Walter.”

Thea’s eyes went wide as she backed up. “They found his body?”

“No,” said Oliver, and he saw Diggle’s expression turn shocked now as well. “He’s alive. The guy the Feds found, he was tricked. He heard a shot and assumed, but he was wrong.” Alonzo had been wrong which meant Oliver had been wrong. And in telling his mother bad information, he had set her on a path to bringing Tommy’s wrath and the law crashing down on her. Oliver had done this.

His sister, meanwhile, gasped. “Oh, my God. When can we see him? When- when does mom get to see him? What’re we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Speedy,” he answered truthfully. He had put off all those questions before because he had thought if he could just get Tommy to go back to the police and tell them the whole truth, things would be better. But now Tommy was gone. His mother was still on the hook for a conspiracy to destroy an entire city neighborhood. What _did_ the future look like?

“What’s it like out there, Roy?” John asked, and Oliver was grateful to his friend for taking the focus off him at least for a few moments.

“Not great. And the cops are gonna be crawling all over. They could probably get you home,” he offered to Oliver and Thea.

“I’m not leaving you here alone tonight,” Thea declared, gripping his hand in hers.

“We’ll stay here,” Oliver decided. “It’s best for us all to stay in a group. Unless, John, do you need…?”

“Carly texted me a half hour ago. Bunch of the mothers at A.J.’s school have made the gym into a big sleepover area. They’re staying there until the morning. You’re right, there’s strength in numbers.”

“Ollie, what about Laurel?” Thea asked. “She lives alone.”

“I’ll call her,” he said slowly. “See where she’s at. Um, John, do you want to come help me look for blankets or something? I guess some of us can use the booths to sleep in.”

His friend nodded and followed him back behind the bar. Laurel was listening at the top of the steps, the door cracked open slightly, but she waited until they all headed back down to the main floor of the base to say anything. “Walter’s alive?”

“Tommy told me. I- I had to choose between bringing him in or saving Walter.”

“He was going to have him killed?” Laurel looked aghast.

“It’s what he said. Maybe he was bluffing. But he left on a plane to learn everything his father knew… everything the Dark Archer knew, because apparently they were the same person,” Oliver revealed. “And I let him go.”

“You had to, man,” John insisted. “Whether he was bluffing or not, you made the choice to save a life. Tommy will have to come back sooner or later. We’ll get him to give up the full story then.”

“It’ll be sooner than later,” Laurel added. “He’s the key witness, so whenever your mother’s case goes to trial, he’ll have to show.”

Oliver smiled softly. “I almost wish you were representing my mother instead of Jean.”

“I’m not sure the police would be happy with that kind of conflict of interest,” Laurel pointed out, though a pleased smile played at her own lips. “They didn’t fight it in your case because most of dad’s superiors were convinced he had no case. Ironically enough.” She reached out and took his hands. “But I am here to offer you and Thea any legal advice I can.”

“Speaking of your sister, we should head back upstairs,” John reminded them. “You gonna come in through the front, Laurel?”

“Probably would sell it better.”

He and John grabbed a couple of the hoodies and towels they had down here to use as makeshift pillows or blankets, then went back up to the club. Thea had gotten out the first aid kit that sat under the bar and looked to be touching up some of Roy’s smaller cuts and scrapes while he rested in a booth.

“Laurel’s gonna come stay with us,” Oliver announced as he offered Thea her pick of their meager supplies. It occurred to him they were all running on little to no food, but there was nothing he could do about that problem. He knew he at least was used to sleeping on an empty stomach.

Not two minutes later, Laurel knocked on the front door. Oliver let her inside quickly, locking it behind her and cutting off the wail of distant police sirens. Thea was busy getting Roy situated for the night, so Oliver simply led Laurel back to their own booth.

“Are you actually going to be able to sleep tonight?” She asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Laurel pushed him to sit back in the booth first, then crawled in after him, resting her back against his chest and her head under his chin. Oliver brought his arms around her, gladly soaking up the comfort of her presence.

A thought came to him. “What happened to your bike?”

“Had to ditch it behind CNRI,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “The roads were too backed up.”

“We’ll get it tomorrow. If it hasn’t been taken to sell for parts.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie.”

He shook his head. “A bike’s just a bike. You, you were amazing out there tonight.”

She snuggled a bit closer and closed her eyes. “I love you.”

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes felt as though they were burning for a moment. “I love you, too,” he finally managed, kissing the top of her head.

A hush settled over the nearly empty club as, one-by-one, the five of them all dropped off to sleep.

In the early light of dawn Oliver’s phone rang, and he answered it with a groggy, “Hello?”

_“Oliver?”_

Instantly, he was wide awake. “Mom?”

Was it possible the police had released her? That they had discovered the truth on their own?

 _“Are you and Thea safe?”_ Her voice sounded shaky, like she had only just managed to pull herself together.

He sat up, causing Laurel to stretch and yawn as she woke fully. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re both fine. Where are you?”

 _“Still in the holding cell,”_ she told him. _“They’re reluctant to move me given how riotous the situation was last night.”_

“But they haven’t released you,” he said, disappointment resettling in the pit of his stomach.

_“No. I’m just being allowed my phone call, finally. Two phone calls, really. You see, Starling General phoned me this morning. It seems Walter is alive and was transferred to their care late last night.”_

Oliver’s eyes squeezed shut. His mother would have been notified first as next of kin, but had no way of getting to her own husband. “Mom, I’m sorry.” Sorry she couldn’t see Walter; sorry she had spent a night in a holding cell; sorry that he had been wrong, and because he had been wrong she had lost everything. The last he could never tell her, no matter how guilty he felt.

 _“You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,”_ she told him. _“I played Malcolm’s games instead of doing the right thing, and I’ve paid the price for it. I only hope you, Thea and Walter will be safe now.”_

Oliver swallowed once, feeling Laurel slip her hand into his empty one. “We will be.”

_“If I can ask you to do one thing for me, sweetheart—”_

“Anything,” he promised right away.

_“Could you go to Starling General? The doctors think it would do Walter good to have some visitors given how long he was alone.”_

“Thea and I will go, mom,” he answered her request.

 _“That’s my beautiful boy.”_ The warmth in her tone threatened to undo him. _“They’re signalling me that my time is up.”_

“But Thea—” His sister was still sleeping and wouldn’t even have a chance to talk to their mother.

 _“Look after her. Look after each other. I love you both so much.”_ His mother said quickly. The line disconnected before he could reply.

It was quiet for a moment. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing and Laurel’s hand in his. He turned his face into her hair for a moment, hiding from the day and all it would bring. A city in turmoil, his mother imprisoned and who knew what else. He just needed a few moments more before he could face it.

Once he felt in control again, Laurel let him out of the booth, and he went to where Thea lay, one arm hanging off the booth she slept in across from Roy. “Hey, Speedy. You gotta get up.”

“Five more minutes…” Thea groaned, and it was such a familiar, innocent sight his heart ached for a moment.

“We can see Walter at the hospital.”

His sister shot up, blinking and rubbing her eyes. “What? Where? Oh,” she said, taking in the surroundings. Her face threatened to crumple for a moment as yesterday’s events no doubt reasserted themselves in her memory.

“Come on, they think seeing some familiar faces might help him.”

“Is he even gonna want to see us? What if- what if he thought mom was the one who had him kidnapped?”

“Even if he did, he’d know you have nothing to do with it,” Oliver assured her. “Walter loves you, Thea.”

Roy was sitting up, one hand pressed over his ribs. Oliver frowned.

“You need looked at?”

“I’m fine,” Roy said immediately, though it didn’t have the defensive air it ordinarily did. Rather it almost seemed like Roy was hoping to impress him with his answer.

“We’re going to a hospital anyway, so you may as well come.”

“Need a lift?” John had gotten out of his own booth and looked about as well as could be expected for a man of his size having squeezed himself onto a small cushioned bench for the night.

“We have the car. And your family should see you.”

“Would you mind dropping me at my place, though?” Laurel asked, smiling in gratitude when John nodded.

Their group split up into two, Oliver navigating the roads still littered with debris and the odd abandoned vehicle here and there. It was eerily quiet after the night the neighborhood had seen, and the amount of damage done was a lot to take in.

“Why would they trash their own stores and homes?” Thea wondered aloud.

“It’s not theirs,” Roy said shortly. “No one in the Glades owns anything.”

“They couldn’t, thanks to Tempest,” Oliver added on a sigh. His sister shrunk down in her seat, looking sorry she had voiced the question.

They arrived at the hospital and saw Roy off to a specialist. Oliver told them any treatment would be covered by him. Then they were shown to Walter’s room.

They both paused in the doorway. Despite what Oliver had said, he was a little nervous to see his step-father as himself again. What did Walter know? What did he guess?

He was sitting up in his bed, the television playing what looked like grainy cell phone footage of Laurel from last night. Oliver was relieved to see she was unrecognizable. Indeed, the caption on the lower third simply read _Who is the Woman?_

“Walter?” Thea asked timidly.

He started, then turned his head. A smile rose to his lips, though his eyes were sad. “Thea.” When he opened his arms, Thea ran forward and hugged him.

Oliver entered more slowly, reaching the bedside and saying, “It’s damn good to see you, Walter.”

Walter had the grace to laugh. He picked up the television remote and shut off the screen. “I’m very happy to be back in civilization. I can’t imagine how you went without it for five years, Oliver.”

“From the sounds of it, you didn’t have it any easier.” Of course, Walter may not have been physically harmed, but he had seen the room the man was being kept in with his own eyes, and it was _tiny_. At least on Lian Yu he had had freedom of movement more often than not.

“We’re so sorry, Walter,” Thea said.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” their step-father told them. “Moira’s choices are her own.”

“You don’t really think…” Oliver said, wincing slightly.

Walter sighed. “No, I don’t believe she ordered my abduction. If Moira had been behind the whole thing, there would have been little point in keeping me alive. But I can’t say I know who I was being held as collateral by.”

“Mom says it was Mr. Merlyn,” Thea told him darkly. She looked back at Oliver. “Would Tommy know about it? Why haven’t we heard from him anyway?”

“His secretary said he left town,” Oliver lied, though it was technically the truth. “He might just want to process this alone.”

“It’s not a terrible idea, regardless if what your mother is saying about Malcolm Merlyn is true or not,” Walter said. “As much as I’m sure you both wish to be there for her, no one would blame you for wishing to get away from all this, at least for a time. Even if it’s to pursue higher learning,” he added with a look at Thea.

“I never actually applied to colleges,” his sister muttered.

“But maybe you should,” Oliver said. “Walter’s right, Speedy. We have no idea how things are going to turn out for mom or the family. The more you can learn and develop your own skills, the better off you’ll be.” Oliver truly didn’t know what he would do if the worst happened. He had no work experience outside barely running a club, and his only skills would out him as one of the city’s vigilantes.

“One thing that is certain that I should tell you both in advance is that I will be filing for divorce,” Walter told them, and he and Thea both looked down. “I wish things had been different, but I cannot remain married to Moira after this, not when I offered to help her find a way out of her situation before it came to something like this. But there simply isn’t trust between us. I’m not sure there ever was.”

“We understand, Walter.” Oliver said quietly.

“That doesn’t mean I wish to see either of you out of my life,” the man added. “When I married your mother, I consented to making Thea, and later you, Oliver, part of my family. That won’t change.”

“It won’t change for us either,” Thea promised, and he nodded along.

Oliver’s phone started ringing once again. “Excuse me,” he told them both before stepping out into the hall to answer it. “Hello?”

 _“Oliver? It’s Ned Foster,”_ said a voice he vaguely recalled. The COO of Queen Consolidated. Oliver felt a headache coming on. _“I’m hoping to have you come into the office so we can discuss what things are going to look like for you and your family.”_

As much as he wanted to just put it off, Oliver knew it would only make things worse in the long run. “Okay, yeah. I can do that. Is it fine if it’s just me?” He didn’t want to have to pull Thea away from Walter so soon. And given that Roy was still being seen to, she would need to stay for him as well.

_“Thea will need to sign some legal documents, but your family’s attorney can deliver those papers to her.”_

“Okay. I should be there in about ten minutes, then.” Oliver hung up and ducked his head in to let Thea know where he would be going and to call him if anything came up. Then he went back down to the visitor’s garage and drove over to Queen Consolidated.

There were paparazzi stationed outside the building probably hoping he or his sister might turn up. Oliver shielded his face with a hand and marched through the shouting crowd to the front door where security turned them away. Inside the elevator to Ned’s office, he could reflect on some of their questions. Had he known his mother’s plans, what did he think of them, what was going to happen to the company and the Queen fortune. That last question was about to be answered for him.

Ned shook his hand when Oliver was shown into his office. “Thank you for coming by so quickly. I can’t imagine it’s an easy time for your family.”

“No,” Oliver agreed quietly.

Ned grimaced as he sat down. “It’s also not an easy time for the company. You see, the authorities have determined your mother a flight risk, so they’ve frozen her assets. This is a document for you and Thea to sign that will protect the assets your parents left to you.”

Oliver read over the whole thing before signing. He had known this was the case, but the lack of mention of the manor did not speak well to their chances of keeping it. Ned took the paper back and placed it in a folder.

“Now, the trouble is the company. As it stands, the board has voted to remove your mother from the position of CEO. They’re also not open to accepting your or Thea’s candidacy.”

“That makes sense,” he replied, even if his heart was sinking. This was his family’s company, and it was being taken away.

“You have to understand that the board is doing what they can to get out from under this media storm. The stock has taken a serious nosedive, and that threatens the livelihoods of countless employees here and at our various international branches. As it stands, we’ve already made the decision to try and sell off Unidac. We’ll see if anyone takes it.”

“Right. Right,” he agreed. It would be selfish to hold onto the company if it was just going to cause people to lose their jobs. “What, uh, what do we do about income?”

“That’s not really something I can tell you one way or the other, Oliver.”

He thought for a moment. One thing that worried him more than all the rest about losing the company: his base. He had beta sites, of course, but it would be inconvenient to lose his main one.

“What about the Verdant property? Could I purchase it from Queen Consolidated? Most people associate it with me, so it’s probably not something the board will want to hang onto. And it can’t be very valuable compared to the other holdings.”

Ned sat there a moment or two. “That is not an unreasonable request. Let me talk to the board and Legal, see if we can work out a sale. I’m glad you’re thinking ahead for you and your sister, Oliver, and I do wish you both the best of luck through all this.”

They stood and shook hands again, and soon Oliver was descending in another elevator. It stopped on a random floor, and he nearly hit the close doors button — except Felicity Smoak had just walked in, head buried in her tablet. Before she could blindly reach out for whichever floor’s button she needed, Oliver pointedly cleared his throat.

She jumped, eyes widening at the sight of him. “Oh! Uh, hi.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry about your mother,” Felicity said, then immediately added, “I mean, I’m not sorry she was caught. Someone had to do it if you couldn’t — though I can understand that would be a tough position to be in. And obviously this is a really bad position for you to be in. Um… what are you doing here in this specific position?”

“Getting my family’s affairs in order, the best I can,” he told her. “I guess you were right about me ruining lives.”

Felicity winced.

“Walter’s alive,” he added conversationally.

“I know. I was reading about it, actually,” she said, gesturing with her tablet. “The Hood rescued him.”

Oliver hummed.

“Thank you,” she said in an undertone. “And I hope that, you know, you and your girlfriend’s _hobby_ works out for the best.” She blinked and said. “That really sounded dirty, but I meant—”

“Felicity, I know,” he interrupted. The elevator doors opened on the lobby, and he stepped out. “For what it’s worth, I wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” She smiled shyly, and the doors closed on her like that.

Oliver sighed and left his old teammate and his family’s former company behind. If his years away had taught him nothing else, it was that people and places came and went. So long as he held onto what was most important in his heart, he could make it through.

—-

Having not actually gone home the previous day, it was a little jarring to pull up outside her place and find her windows boarded up. So were Anita’s and Jerome’s.

“You need me to stick around?” John asked.

“No, I’ll figure it out,” Laurel said slowly, opening her door and stepping around bits of trash strewn around the yard from her can, which had apparently been knocked over. She would get around to it later. First thing first was seeing if she could even get inside.

Her key worked, and Laurel couldn’t honestly spot a thing out of place. Before she could think on it too much, there was a sharp rapping on her front door. Laurel checked the peephole and smiled as she pulled it open.

“Anita,” she said as she hugged her friend. Anita hugged her back. She was honestly relieved to see she hadn’t been hurt, not having seen her all the last day.

“Was starting to worry you weren’t coming back,” Anita said when they pulled apart. “Jerome did your windows anyway. Soon as we heard the news yesterday, we knew it was gonna get crazy, and we had some extra boards in the back.”

“Thank you so much. You both were safe last night?”

“Yeah, we just stayed put. No way was I letting him go to work last night. Your dad came by around two-thirty, though. Probably woke the whole street up hollering outside your door.”

Laurel winced. She had a number of missed calls, most of them from him. Anita had tried once and Joanna as well, though the latter hopefully didn’t realize she’d seen Laurel last night. “Sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “Can’t blame him for worrying. I was, too.” There was something heavy to the weight of Anita’s gaze on her, but her friend changed the subject. “Jerome’s helping clean up the main street, and I’m making a bunch of the volunteers some food. You wanna help?”

“Yeah. Just, um, just let me clean up my yard and I’ll be over.”

Laurel got all the trash picked back up and back in the can, and by the time that was done Anita had finished most of her cooking. It was probably for the best. Laurel assisted her in carrying it the several blocks where they found a card table had been set up to host what looked like an impromptu potluck.

“Take what you need,” Mrs. Ross was telling a mother with her three kids. “Anita, put yours down on that end. We got paper plates and napkins set up on the other.”

“Laurel!”

She turned at the sound of Raisa’s voice, smiling at the sight of the other woman. “Raisa, hi. How’s your family?”

“We could be worse. The building, someone threw a- a—”

“Smoke bomb.”

“Yes. There is some damage, but we still have our home. I only saw it this morning. The staff at the manor, we remained at the house last night. No one knew what to do after Mrs. Queen…” Raisa looked down, and Laurel patted the woman’s arm in sympathy. “But I wanted to ask, have you seen Mr. Oliver or Miss Thea? They never came home.”

“Oh. Yes, they are both safe. The police actually found Mr. Steele, so they’re visiting with him at the hospital.”

Raisa gasped. “Mr. Steele is alive? Oh, that is good news. If only…”

“Yeah.” Laurel bit her lip, then asked. “Raisa, is there anything you might have heard Mrs. Queen ever discuss with Mr. Merlyn about all this?”

The housekeeper slowly shook her head. “I never intruded. But I always suspected he made her uncomfortable. She would request a glass of her favorite red after any of their meetings to calm her nerves. Was he involved with this Tempest?”

“I’m not sure how much I can say,” Laurel admitted, to which Raisa nodded in understanding. She looked around. She wasn’t much use at the food table accept for eating it. Laurel snagged a couple sandwiches for her empty stomach, then approached Jerome and a few more men tacking tarp up over missing windows. “What can I do?”

She was directed to help another group sweeping out storefronts and setting displays and other furniture back to rights. They were headed to 17th Street, and Laurel took the lead, anxious to check on Pam and her job.

The windows of Green Glades had survived, but every last pot and planter out in front had been smashed. “Oh, Pam.”

Her boss was using the push broom, and Laurel quickly took possession of the dust pan. “It’s to be expected. People want something to control when they feel like they’ve lost control of their own lives. I was perfectly safe upstairs.”

Laurel helped Pam to set everything to rights, then spent a little time at the other storefronts with the group she had joined up with. Someone had brought some kind of speakers, and the music and food helped create something of a lighter atmosphere. Back on the main road, Anita had coaxed Jerome into dancing while he and his group were on a food break, and Laurel smiled as she saw kids skipping around on the sidewalk. People were complicated things, but she thought so long as there were times like these, they could weather through the bad.

“The hell you doing showing up here?”

The angry shout had Laurel turning sharply. A few men had intercepted Oliver, Thea and Roy. The Queen siblings, both changed into what Laurel knew were their less nice t-shirts and jeans, looked unsure how to respond to the harsh greeting, if it could be called that.

“We- we just want to help,” Thea offered timidly. “We’re so sorry—”

Laurel cringed and hurried forward.

“Sorry?” One man repeated with a sharp laugh. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. What your mama did—”

“Isn’t what they did,” Laurel interrupted, coming between the two groups. “They didn’t know.”

“Yeah, they both work in the Glades,” Roy added. “How dumb would they have to be to do that if they were in on it?”

Most of the street had stopped what they were doing to watch this unfold, even a few of the children abandoning their game to stand and stare in confusion. Jerome had pulled Anita close, half-shielding her from the Queens and frowning at them. Raisa had a hand over her mouth, clearly worried for her charges.

“Thea and I were ignorant of what our mother and her associates were involved in,” Oliver agreed quietly. “Ignorance also isn’t an excuse for what could have happened had it not been exposed. What we hope is that we can atone for the things our family has done to yours if you will accept it.”

Laurel stared the men down, making it quite clear that if they chose to reject that offer with anything other than words, they would be going through her.

“They’re right.” A man in coveralls with a receding and graying hairline stepped forward. “Queen isn’t his parents. I heard you try to give Derek and his family a fresh start last fall, before that horrible business at the bank.”

Oliver swallowed once, not seeming to know what to say to that.

“We’re better than them in their mansions. We’re not gonna judge. You wanna do the work? Then do it.”

At the tables, Mrs. Ross gave an affirming hum. Anita patted Jerome’s chest, and her husband looked away and nodded.

“Innocent till proven guilty,” Hank shouted from where he was serving his usual wraps free of charge today. Laurel felt her lips twitch despite herself.

Gradually the small group that had gathered in front of the Queens slowly dispersed, some less happy than others, but Laurel let out a breath in relief. 

She turned to the Queens. “I’m really glad you guys came out. It’s not going to be easy, but the more people see the real you, the more they’ll understand why you shouldn’t be tarred with the same brush.”

Raisa joined their group, hugging both Oliver and Thea. “It is a hard time for you both.”

“It’s not just for us. Raisa, the accounts… things aren’t looking good,” Oliver admitted to Laurel’s dismay. She’d known the Queens were going to take some kind of hit over all this, but she had no idea how this might affect Oliver’s ability to operate as the Hood. “We might lose the house. I’ll have to call the staff together for a meeting, but it can wait. This is more important.” He briefly pressed his lips to Laurel’s temple before heading over to Jerome’s group since they were getting back to work. The men grudgingly set him to work, though Laurel thought she saw some of their distrust melt away to grudging respect when it quickly became apparent Oliver was no slouch when it came to manual labor.

“Maybe we could offer to keep an eye on those kids?” Thea suggested to her boyfriend. “Roy has bruised ribs,” she added in explanation.

“Then something like that would be perfect,” Raisa agreed. “Come.” She led the young couple off, only for Anita to join her instead, looking smug.

“So, giving billionaire boy another shot?”

“Shut up.”

The next several days passed in a strange haze. No one quite seemed to know what happened now that the world hadn’t ended. Oliver was busy constantly between getting the outside of the club cleaned up and handling his family’s affairs. Laurel kept herself occupied with cleanup efforts and checking in on her friends and neighbors, both old and new. That had her climbing the steps to her old office building one afternoon and stopping at a desk buried under paper.

“Have to say, kind of glad I was fired before all this,” she remarked.

Joanna’s head shot up. “Laurel! Oh, thank God.” Her friend got up and pulled her into a tight hug which Laurel readily returned.

“I texted you I was fine,” she pointed out with a smile.

“Yeah, well fine for you could mean anything from you caught a cold to your house is burning down.”

Laurel held up her hands in surrender. “Well how’ve you been? Lot of new cases?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Even Anastasia’s moving her butt now. There’s probably going to be a class action suit brought against the Queen family. Anyone who lives in the Glades is entitled to compensation if we win,” Joanna told her. “But that won’t be on the docket for a while. Her assets are tied up right now because of the criminal case.”  
“I know.”

Jo winced. “How are Thea and Oliver taking it?”

“As well as can be expected. I think they’re just relieved the bomb wasn’t actually, you know.”

Joanna nodded. “Considering how crazy it was the other night _without_ the bomb, I agree with that completely. Have you, uh, heard about the Woman?”

“The one in the mask?” Okay, Roy really had had a point, she should have thought of a name before starting all this.

“Yeah. She showed up that night, helped me and the others get out of the Glades since there were people outside the building.”

“Wow,” said Laurel, hoping she sounded surprised.

“Yeah, I kind of felt like you a bit. Don’t tell my mom,” Jo added with a laugh. “She doesn’t want me getting anywhere _near_ vigilantes after what happened to you.”

Laurel smirked. “Oh, it hasn’t been so bad.” On the inside, she was relieved; Joanna definitely hadn’t recognized her that night. Her friend would’ve demanded answers by now if she had.

She left Joanna to her work soon after, thinking back to that night. It had been exhilarating and exhausting all at once racing from one end of the neighborhood to the other, first on her bike then on foot. Roy’s company had been a comfort when she had found him, and Ted’s appearance a welcome surprise. And part of her had just known Oliver would find his way back after facing Tommy, that he wouldn’t leave her to face it all alone.

It was strange, though, walking down streets and hearing bits of her own words played back at her. It didn’t really sound like her. Part of that was because it had been captured on somebody’s cell phone, and it didn’t seem like their speakers were the best quality. Another was that, for maybe the first time, Laurel felt like she heard a sense of _command_ in her own voice.

She hadn’t been planning to make some kind of speech that night. Yet she had needed to reach people, some way, any way. And to her own amazement, she had. That was the real power that being a vigilante gave; a voice that was listened to.

By the end of the week, she was back to work at the flower shop. And that was where her father finally caught up to her.

It was startling seeing him enter the florist’s. He seemed so out of place and knew it, too. Pam opened her mouth to start her customary greeting, but Laurel said, “That’s okay, Pam. This is my dad.”

“Oh. Well, what a delight to _finally_ meet the man who helped bring my lovely assistant into the world,” Pam said, and if Laurel wasn’t mistaken, seemed to be at least somewhat serious about it.

“Yeah, uh, good to meet you, too,” her dad mumbled. “Listen, can I talk to my daughter for a moment? I’ll be quick about it.”

“I suppose,” Pam agreed. Laurel had been sort of hoping she would say no. But she squared her shoulders and came around the counter to join him outside.

“Stopped by your place that night of the riots,” he began.

“I know.”

“Where were you? Where did you go? You know how badly I panicked when I realized you’d left the station?”

“Dad, we’ve talked about this. I’m living my life, my way now, you know?”

His shoulders slumped, and his head shook from side to side. “Look, I’ve accepted that you’ve made a life here in the day-to-day. But riots are different.”

“It’s not different for any of my neighbors and friends who have nowhere else to go,” she pointed out.

“But you weren’t even home!”

“I was at a shelter,” she lied, and thought she was more convincing than even with Joanna. Laurel had practiced this one because she’d known it was coming. “One of the local schools was letting people stay in the gym and needed volunteers to help keep things organized with all the kids. I was too busy to notice my phone at first, and my battery died overnight so I couldn’t call you back.”

He paused, scrutinizing her. “So you weren’t out there that night?”

“Why would I be?”

Her dad studied her another moment, then pulled her close. “I just worry about you, honey. You know I- I’m used to knowing everything about what you’re up to. I miss that.”

Laurel looked down. “I know those times made you feel better, but they weren’t what I needed.”

He blew out a breath. “I know.” A rueful grin rose on his lips. “You know, it’s funny. I keep going back over what she’s told us so far, how it was all for her kids.” He didn’t have to clarify which _her_ he meant. “Her kids never would have wanted her to do it.”

Laurel blinked. Implied or not, that was one of the nicer things her father had had to say about Oliver in a long time.

“Maybe we all just kid ourselves. Maybe we don’t know what our children want, cause we don’t ask them or we think we still know best long after they’ve grown,” he continued. He cupped her face with one hand, thumb brushing the corner of her lip that had only just finished healing from that night she’d gone toe-to-toe with the corrupt SCPD officers. “But how’s about you keep me in the loop just a little from now on, eh?”

Laurel smiled, though she hoped he didn’t think it was sad. There were parts of her life now that she knew she would never share with her father. He just wouldn’t be able to take it, and it had the potential to destroy his career. “Yeah. A little.”

With a one-armed hug avoiding her dirt-smeared apron, he let her get back to her shift.

At night, she and Oliver patrolled together which more than made up for the time spent apart during the day. The nights were busy given that after the crackdown on the riots, the police had once again retreated back out of the Glades. They didn’t talk much about what was going on with his family, though she knew he had been to see his mother at least once more.

She also knew the day of Mrs. Queen’s hearing to determine if she would be allowed bail. It was a closed session given the possible danger to Mrs. Queen’s life if someone with revenge fantasies like the Savior had had decided to show up, so after her shift, Laurel went to the Verdant to wait, Roy keeping her company when he wasn’t needed to wipe down the scant few tables that were occupied.

When Oliver and Thea entered with morose expressions behind John, Laurel didn’t need them to say that Mrs. Queen would be spending the time before her trial behind bars. She stood from her stool and offered each of them a hug.

“We knew it wouldn’t happen,” Oliver said in monotone. “It just…”

Laurel squeezed his hand, unable to say the words he really needed to hear with Thea and Roy present: this wasn’t his fault.

Oliver gave a small shake of the head. “We need to talk about the future. Thea… I really think you should consider Walter’s suggestion.”

“I’m not just leaving home,” Thea said immediately.

“What’s this?” Laurel asked.

“Walter thinks it would be a good idea for Thea to take some time away from Starling while she considers her options regarding higher education or a career. You don’t have the guarantee of an easy life anymore, Thea. A college degree is something you might need someday.”

Thea scowled but had no argument.

“Look, all I am suggesting is that you take a vacation for a few months while the worst of this dies down a little. Take some online classes to improve your transcript, write a few college essays in preparation to apply.”

“While you stay here?”

“I have to stay here. I own a club, and I can’t afford a new manager.”

“What if you and Roy went together?” Laurel suggested.

Roy blinked. “Me?”

“What?” Oliver immediately demanded.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Thea does not want to be separated from everyone she cares about, so if you’re staying here then her boyfriend is the next best option. It’d be good for Roy, too, let him see some more of the world.” She doubted her younger friend had had a vacation in his life. “And as long as they promise to behave themselves, I don’t see why it’s a problem. They’re both adults, and we went on trips together at their age.”

“We didn’t behave ourselves,” Oliver murmured in her ear, and Laurel smirked.

Thea, meanwhile, seemed to be warming up to the idea. “So Roy and I could take a trip together so long as I fill out some applications? Okay.”

“I want you to take this seriously, Speedy.”

Thea waved a dismissive hand, already getting out her phone to start looking at vacation hotspots. She grabbed Roy’s hand, but he stayed put.

“Find a table. I’ll be right over.” Once Thea was our of earshot, Roy said, “I can’t leave right now. The city’s a mess.”

“Roy,” Laurel said.

“Look, I figured it out. You’re — you know,” he said to Oliver after a furtive look around. “I want to help you. I helped Laurel the other night when things were crazy.”

“And you were hurt pretty badly,” Oliver pointed out. Roy looked about to argue, so he held up a hand. “Take the vacation to heal and to think about what you’re asking for. This kind of life is not easy, and sometimes, it takes more than it gives. If you come back and are still committed, Laurel and I will discuss it with you then. That fair?”

Roy didn’t exactly look happy about it, but he seemed to realize it was the best offer he was likely to receive. “Fine.”

“Good,” Laurel said. “Now go plan your trip with your girlfriend.” Roy left the bar for Thea’s table, and Laurel turned her attention on her own boyfriend. “Now we need to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been sleeping downstairs, man,” John said, coming forward now that the discussions surrounding Thea and Roy were over. “And not even on a real bed.”

“The island didn’t have real beds,” Oliver deadpanned.

“But you’re not on the island anymore. And you shouldn’t have to feel like you are,” Laurel pointed out. “If you needed a place to stay, you could have asked one of us.”

“One of you?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow.

“Figured you’d like having options better,” John explained.

“And I know better than to assume we’re living together,” Laurel added lightly.

Oliver’s face fell. “Laurel, you didn’t assume anything. I told you we could do it even when I knew I wasn’t ready.”

“And now?” She asked.

“Now I would love nothing more than to be with you,” he told her. A smile spread across her lips, which didn’t stop him from leaning in to kiss them. “I’ll bring my things over tomorrow.”

“My day off. Perfect.” It was far from perfect, she supposed. Instead of a spacious downtown apartment with a five minute emergency vehicle response time belonging to a lawyer and the heir apparent to a Fortune 500 company, they would be sharing a cramped one-bedroom on a forgotten street in the poorest neighborhood as a florist and the owner of the least popular club in all of Starling City. But it felt, in a funny way, far more them than the children their parents had tried to raise them to be, and in a way that was its own perfection.

That morning, she was in the middle of her workout when a knock came at the door. She hadn’t actually expected Oliver this early, but she called to him, “One second!” before grabbing her towel and heading over to unlock it. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ted!”

Her old teacher nodded at her. “Morning. Mind if I come in?”

“Sure.” Laurel grabbed her tank top off the couch and threw it on as well, noticing that Ted had stopped by the heavy bag she had only just been working at. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just was thinking, I might need this back,” he explained, gesturing to it.

“Oh,” Laurel said, her shoulders drooping.

“Seeing as you’re welcome to start lessons back up any time,” he added, turning around to look at her with a sheepish smile. “Turns out you were right and there’s, well, still stuff we’re needed for out there.”

Laurel grinned. “I knew there was still fight in you.”

“Wouldn’t be much good at teaching it if there wasn’t. I’m not kidding about the bag, though,” he added, but Laurel just shoved at his arm which had him smirking.

Ted stayed for a moment or two longer where they hashed out a schedule, both for her lessons and for nighttime. He wasn’t so keen on getting to know the Hood just yet, and Laurel knew it was something she would need to talk to Oliver about first anyway.

After her teacher left, she thought about hitting the shower before Oliver arrived, but there was another knock at the door. Laurel pivoted on the balls of her feet. “Coming!”

She checked this time to find Anita waiting rather than her boyfriend. Laurel opened the door and showed her friend in. Anita carried a bag with her, which she held out for Laurel to take.

“Finished this last night,” her friend explained as Laurel lifted out her black leather jacket. She smiled. She’d been using the jean jacket at night for now, but it just hadn’t been the same.

“Thank you so much,” Laurel said, running her finger over the arm where the tear had been. “Hopefully by Christmas I’ll have made something all by myself to pay you back.”

“Yeah, well look the whole thing over before you thank me,” her friend said.

Laurel did, puzzled at first, with her eyes widening as she turned over the jacket to see the back.

“I should have asked before I did it,” Anita said. “But I kept thinking about that photo you’ve got of the thing in its cage and how it wouldn’t shut up, and I thought it was sort of like you, you know? Trapped in a shitty situation but not gonna go out without a fight. But that’s why I did the wings spread,” she added, stepping forward and smoothing her fingers over the yellow embroidery thread. “It symbolizes freedom. And that’s what you are now, Laurel. You freed yourself.”

She stared down at the outline of a bird with wings spread, a strange sort of lump sticking in her throat.

“I mean they’re probably gonna call you the Bird Lady or something stupid now,” Anita muttered, and it shocked her enough that Laurel looked up to meet her friend’s eyes.

“I—”

“You don’t gotta explain it. I won’t say a thing more about it.”

Her eyes watered and spilled over as she moved forward and wrapped her free arm around Anita in a hug which she returned. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t hate it?”

“I love it. Really.” She sniffed once and let go, stepping back. Laurel hugged the jacket to her chest, smiling.

Yet another knock on her door had her quickly tucking the jacket back in the bag even if she suspected who this finally was. Laurel let Oliver in, her smile widening at the sight of the bag he had slung over one shoulder and one box tucked under his arm.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asked, reaching out and wiping at her cheek with a calloused thumb.

“Yeah. Come meet or re-meet one of your new neighbors, Anita.”

Anita’s eyebrows shot straight into her hairline. “Billionaire boy’s living here? This is one for the books.”

“It’s uh, Oliver,” he said awkwardly, holding a hand out.

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood, Ollie,” Anita greeted as she gave it a firm shake. Laurel stifled a laugh behind her hand. “I gotta head out, so have fun unpacking, you two.”

“See you,” Laurel told her. The door shut, and she spread her arms a little, turning one way and the other. “Well, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the box and setting it on her counter. “This is for you.”

“Everything you own fits in one bag?” Laurel asked dubiously. “Also you really don’t need to be getting me presents right now.”

He shrugged. “I missed your birthday.”

“You paid to fix my front window.”

“Well it’s our window now, so it doesn’t count. Anyway, I really want you to have this.”

It clicked, and Laurel reached for the box. “Is it—?”

She opened it to find a rather sleek ensemble in black and dark blue. Laurel couldn’t identify the material it was made out of, but she imagined it was sturdier than her leggings. A brand new wig and mask sat underneath.

“It’s amazing, Ollie.” She felt far less guilty knowing he’d already paid for it before his financial situation had become precarious. Laurel dove for the bag and her jacket, holding it and the undershirt of her new suit up to see how they might look together.

“Is that a… bird?” Oliver asked, eyebrows furrowed as he peered at the design on the back.

“It’s a canary,” Laurel answered. She set both items back in the box, smoothing the jacket down so the embroidered image rested face-up. Then she went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And it’s what I’m going to start calling myself out there.”

“The Hood and the Canary,” he said. “Doesn’t quite go together.”

“You could always pick your own name for yourself,” she offered. “Instead of letting everyone else decide it for you.”

“Maybe. If it weren’t for you going out there, the Hood probably wouldn’t even exist anymore,” he admitted, and Laurel tilted her head in an unspoken question, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “I became the Hood to fulfill my father’s mission. And in a lot of ways, I failed because I was playing my parents’ game. Sticking to the shadows, paying more attention to the wealthy than the victims suffering from those with wealth. Starling City is going to take a long time to get better, and it has to start here.”

“That all sounds good to me,” she agreed. “And now that you’re doing things your own way, without all the family secrets, I think we really can make a difference. Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it together.”

He smiled down at her. “Then let’s save the world.”

Laurel met him on her tiptoes for a kiss to seal that promise.


End file.
